Rain of Terra
by Ratatosk
Summary: Detective Tomo Takino is known for cracking the toughest cases. Now, Tomo and her partner Torako face their biggest, and most personal, case yet. Can they solve it without ruining their friendship?
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **This story takes place ten years after the ending of _Azumanga Daioh_. It tells of Tomo Takino's biggest case during her tenure at the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force.

This is not a reunion fic. There will be no descriptions of what the rest of the Azu gang have been up to since graduation. Only two other characters from _Azumanga Daioh_ will appear as supporting cast.

While they aren't sisters in this story, the partnership between Tomo and Torako (from Azuma Kiyohiko's _Yotsuba&!_) was inspired by the excellent _The Other Takino_, by Not-as-Thrilling-as-Advertised. I hope he doesn't mind my borrowing his idea.

...

A screaming comes across the asphalt.

An unmarked police car, modified beyond its already considerable specs, snarled as it fought through the night traffic. Blaring sirens and flashing lights would normally be warning enough to get out of the way, but the supercharged screaming from the engine, echoing from building to building, made even the most sluggish drivers quickly duck out of the way. A startled pedestrian, gasping and putting a hand over her fluttering heart, wondered who was crazy enough to drive this fast on the crowded freeway.

There was no crazy behind this wheel; it was Torako. She needed no instructions on how to push her car to the limit or the quickest way to the hideout – but her partner offered them anyway.

"Left!" Tomo shouted. "Turn left! Left left left-"

"I know," Torako said. She flung the maroon Honda Civic Type-R into a maneuver that would make Michael Schumacher blanch. The car cut through Tokyo's neon night like a secretary sliding a knife through an envelope: with bored precision and no fanfare.

"Faster! You heard the threats, they'll kill her!"

"Calm down," Torako said, weaving the car in and out of traffic like a young Mike Tyson dodging punches. Torako displayed consummate skill in handling the growling souped-up Civic, shifting gears with a deft touch of the gearstick and turning corners with a smooth turn of the wheel. Torako's calm dismissal of the whirlwind of destruction sitting next to her highlighted her skill and control, especially now, as Tomo asked for something no just and loving God would ever wish upon his creation.

"Let me drive," Tomo said. "You aren't going fast enough. Pull over!"

"Can't."

"Come on, why can't I drive?"

Torako zoomed through a yellow light, and dug through her memory for the phrasing from Tomo's vehicular probationary notice. "Excessive damage to vehicle, massive destruction to property, danger to life-"

"I know all that," Tomo said, slapping the dashboard with her hand. "What I want to know is, why can't-" her words were cut off as Torako executed a sharp turn, knocking Tomo's head into her window.

"Ow," Tomo said, rubbing her head. She caught a glimpse through her window of a familiar beat-up car, and instantly forgot her pain.

Tomo grabbed the police radio microphone. "This is investigator Tomo Takino reporting multiple traffic infractions," and then she rattled off the license of the beat-up car, its make and model, and its last known heading. The first two she knew by heart. She knew the driver too, but didn't name her. There's no need to arouse suspicion.

"There," Tomo said, as she hung up the mic. She leaned back with her hands behind her head in a self-satisfied pose. This was hard to do when her partner was going forty kilometers faster than the surrounding traffic on a cramped street.

"Did you just report your old high school teacher? Again?"

"Yep," Tomo said, sporting her patented look of smug accomplishment.

"You sure hold a grudge," Torako said. "Maybe it's time to let it go."

"This isn't a grudge! She's a menace to law-abiding pedestrians everywhere! I'm doing her a favor, if you think about it. I'm keeping her off of the streets so she can contemplate and repent of her past crimes."

"Past?"

"Uh…" Tomo said. "I meant present, of course. Heh heh."

"I see," Torako said. She turned off the side street into an alley, and quickly executed a left onto the main thoroughfare, a street as wide as the summer sky above Death Valley. There was little traffic to dodge, so she punched the gas. The Civic gave an appreciative growl and surged ahead.

"I still think I should drive," Tomo said.

...

Torako parked and locked the Civic as she and Tomo skulked toward their target, a simple two-story building housing apartments above and a bar below. They were in a back alley in a bar district where businessmen would drink themselves into a stupor before either taking the train home, staying at a hotel, or committing suicide. The alley was full of middle age men with loosened ties and untucked shirttails, staggering from one bar to the next.

The tall and skinny Torako was the model of detective chic, wearing a black suit cut exactly to her measurements (which weren't much, but they were there). She wore a white French-cut shirt with Union Jack cufflinks. Torako chose that cufflink design because she was heavily into first wave English punk music, especially The Jam.

Tomo was modestly dressed, but in her haste to make it on time, she grabbed a pair of slacks with a malfunctioning zipper. She zipped it up with no hint of modesty, astonishing and delighting the drunks staggering in the street. She also wore her green cloth trench coat, which had a multitude of pockets holding whatever police approved (and unapproved) devices she needed to do her job. Most important to her was that it held her wooden sword.

They made it to the building and entered the bar, heading toward the steps leading upstairs. In the bar was a businessman standing on a table, yelling at the laughing faces gathered around him. He had a tie wrapped around his head and had somehow been liberated of his pants.

A creaky air-conditioner leaking cold, stale air greeted the duo as they ascended the stairs.

"Geez," Tomo whispered. "It's almost October."

"Don't think this is ever turned off," Torako said.

They made their up the stairs, with Tomo occasionally checking behind her to make sure they weren't being tailed. Torako drew her gun when they entered the second floor.

"Why can't I have a gun?" Tomo said.

Reciting from memory, Torako said, "flagrant and intentional misuse, destruction of property, danger to life-"

"I know all that," Tomo hissed. "What I mean is, why ca-"

Tomo was cut off by a door opening directly behind her. A middle-aged lady emerged and saw the skulking detectives. Her face stiffened into a display of great alarm.

Tomo pulled out her badge. She put a finger on her lips and whispered, "Police business, please get back inside."

The woman immediately backed into her apartment and shut the door, locking every lock she had.

Tomo and Torako continued down the hall, walking on the ratty brown threadbare carpet, each step raising a mini dust storm. The smell of mildew grew stronger. Torako put up a hand and stopped Tomo from moving.

"Here's the door," Torako whispered. "Don't step in front of it. Peep hole." Torako bent down and walked to the other side. Tomo crouched and reached into her trench coat. She pulled out a fiber optic scope and placed it under the door, peering into it.

Tomo scanned the room. "It's clear," she said, "except for a light in the kitchen."

Tomo pocketed her scope and crouched in front of the door, facing the doorknob. She reached into her trench coat and pulled out her lock-picking kit, a sight that always bothered Torako to the point of annoyance.

"How did you ever learn enough patience to use that thing," Torako whispered, her pistol at the ready.

"Remember when Kazumi made that stupid rule about not stealing food from her?"

"The one you ignored?"

"Yeah, that one." Tomo slowly worked the lock. Normally, she would have this sort of thing unlocked in less than a minute. However, safety of the hostage was priority, so Tomo had to make use of two of her hated enemies: stealth and patience.

"She got a new desk and she put her snacks in a locked drawer," Tomo said. "She even mocked me about not being able to get them."

"Well, those were her snacks. Keep it down."

"Yeah," Tomo said, working the lock. "But it's how she said it. It pissed me off so much that I put in for a lock-picking kit, and when I got it, I would practice on cars in the parking lot. When I got it right, I broke into her desk and cleaned her out of every snack she has. It was awesome."

"Hmm," Torako said. A bead of sweat formed on her forehead. She was afraid that Tomo would get loud at any moment.

"You know what I did to her today?" The lock clicked before she could finish. Tomo slowly revolved the door handle and nudged open the door. Torako eased in through the opening, and Tomo followed behind. She stuffed her lock picking kit back into her coat, and pulled out her bokken.

The living room was dark and smelled of dust. Cushions were scattered on the stained tatami mat partially covering the floor. A table was in the middle of the mat, and an old CRT TV was in the corner. The kitchen light was on, and Torako counted the voices.

"It sounds like two," Torako whispered.

"I'll go first," Tomo said, pointing at the kitchen with her bokken. "You cover me."

"Okay," Torako said. "Sneak up on-"

"Police! You're under arrest!" Tomo shouted, and she lunged into the kitchen.

A young woman with a handkerchief stuffed in her mouth was tied to a chair. The two kidnappers crowded around the kitchen table, eating a rice dish. They were startled, but not startled enough to lose their sense of self-preservation. Both jumped out of their chairs.

Tomo struck a heroic pose, and pointed her bokken at the one she decided to name Baldy. "Villain! In the name of a just and verdant soc-"

"Kill the hostage!" Baldy shouted to his co-kidnapper. He whipped out a chain and struck at her sword. The chain wrapped around her bokken and he pulled it out of her hand. Fortunately, Tomo had long since been introduced to this trick. While he was pulling away her wooden sword, his lips curling back in assurance of victory, Tomo lunged forward and kicked him in the crotch.

At the same time, the other kidnapper brandished a knife and grabbed the hostage's head, pulling it back to deliver the killing slice to her throat.

Torako rushed into the kitchen and fired two precision shots that severed the potential hostage killer's spirit from his body, in addition to carving out a portion of his head. His body fell to the floor, and the hostage shuddered from the violence of his death.

Tomo surveyed the damage. "Look at that! That was what, five seconds? Three? And we got them all?" She stepped over Baldy, who was moaning in pain. She picked up her bokken and slammed it down on the back of Baldy's neck. He slumped forward, groaning. She grabbed the chain and unwrapped it from her bokken. "I can't believe you did that to Swordy," she said.

"I wish you'd name that thing something else," Torako said. She forced herself not to look at the dead kidnapper, instead focusing on the hostage. Torako leaned in front of the hostage and removed the handkerchief from her mouth. "Aya Suzuki?"

"Yes," Aya said. She lifted up her head to reveal soft brown eyes that could drain hate from a Klansman, and a chin that could cut diamonds. Tears had dug canals into her face, shed in fear over the last three days. New tears were forming, but of relief and joy. "T-thank you so much. I was… just…"

"It's okay," Torako said. She took out her pocketknife and cut Aya's bonds.

"Yeah, no need to thank us," Tomo said. "It's what we do. Did you see me kick that guy? Totally awesome, huh?"

"You don't have to answer that," Torako said, seeing Aya's confusion.

"Hey, Torako," Tomo said, pointing at the table. "They were eating curry rice! I am so going to have that tonight."

Torako finished cutting free the hostage. Aya stood up and rubbed her wrists. She glanced back and forth between Tomo and Torako. He mouth opened slightly, but she sighed and closed it.

Tomo slapped a pair of handcuffs on Baldy, who was still lying on the dirty floor. She saw Torako pocket her knife. "Hey, why can't I have knife- don't answer that!" Torako pulled out her police radio and reported in to headquarters, while Tomo opened the fridge and rummaged through its paltry contents.

...

Tomo and Torako stood in the living room, the ceiling light showing how decrepit this room really was. A flock of police cars flashing red and blue lights lit up the alley below. Several news vans pulled into the alley, spewing forth reporters and cameramen.

The uniformed officers led Baldy away in handcuffs, while paramedics tended to Aya Suzuki. The dead kidnapper, covered with a white sheet, was carried out on a stretcher. Torako turned away and looked out the window, watching the commotion below.

"What's all this about?" Tomo said, when she pushed toward the window. "Oh wait, I know. It's because we're awesome."

Tomo insisted on giving thumbs up to each officer that passed by. The few that didn't return the gesture ignored her. Aya Suzuki was led outside, her head down, surrounded by a gaggle of police officers.

"Tomo," Torako said, not turning away from the window. "Do you have any idea of who we just rescued?"

"She's some kind of idol, isn't she?" Tomo said.

A stout uniformed officer stood at the door, knocking on the pine door to get their attention. "Detectives? The chief is outside. He wants to see you two."

"Can he come up here?" Torako said, but Tomo had already rushed downstairs. Torako grimaced and followed behind.

Tomo marched outside with a triumphant grin. Cameras and microphones were thrust into her face. The reporters did their annoying shtick of talking at the same time, producing a cacophony of banal questions that dissolved into a stew of incoherence.

"Ms. Takino! What were your thoughts when-"

"-discover the location-"

"-expect a reward?"

"Oh, it's all in a day's work," Tomo said, deciding to press on through with whatever popped into her head. "We were outnumbered, see, five of them had AK-47s. There was this big pentagram in the middle of the floor drawn with blood, and we had to fight a cacodemon. Torako was screaming, 'Don't cross the streams!' but I knew that if-"

"Hey!" One of the reporters said. "It's the Tiger!"

Oh great, Tomo thought. She smirked as she watched Torako exit the building, heading straight for the chief. She kept her head high and her path straight, not answering the reporters' prodding questions.

"Torako, how'd you do it?"

"Show us your gun, Tiger!"

"Why do you get a nickname and I don't?" Tomo said, when Torako had caught up with her. "I'm so much more cooler than you."

"It's a lazy nickname," Torako said, as they both headed across the street toward the chief. Police officers began to make a perimeter around the two detectives, keeping the reporters out. "What do you want your nickname to be?"

"Tomo, Destroyer of Worlds!"

"Fitting," Torako muttered. They reached the chief and saluted.

Chief Akiyama was a tall, stocky man, who had all of his black hair despite being in his late fifties. He was wearing a gray suit with a vest, topped off with a fedora. The chief had the right combination of age and looks to pull off that look without coming across as pretentious.

He saluted his two investigators. His face, carved from granite, had a nose that would fit a hawk hunting for mice.

"Detectives," he said, in his gruff voice, "you have performed a valuable service tonight. I thank you for your dedication to protecting the innocent and fighting crime. Tonight, I have a special guest who would like to thank you in person. I am honored to present to you Oda Otomo, district one's representative in the Diet." The last part he added for Tomo's benefit, hoping to prevent her from doing anything stupid (which, right now, was asking why he had two last names).

A hush settled over the crowd like morning dew blanketing a lawn. The tall, lean Oda Otomo, immaculately dressed in a bespoke English suit, approached the two detectives. The patched up Aya stood next to him, looking downward like a fading flower. Oda was at least 180 centimeters tall, and flashed his boyish and charismatic smile that helped him win enough votes to become the youngest representative ever voted into the Diet.

He looked at Tomo, thought better of it, and looked at Torako. "Detectives," he said, in his rich voice, "I am proud to have such fine members in my district's police force. I thank you for rescuing my secretary-"

A light bulb lit in Tomo's head.

"-by going above and beyond the call of duty. Your tireless devotion to the cause of justice is an inspiration to us all. I thank you both from the bottom of my heart."

He bowed deeply, and Torako and Tomo responded with their own bows. A cheer went up from the police, and the reporters readied their mics to feed. Oda and Torako broke their bow to shake each other's hand. Torako nudged Tomo to break her bow, so she could shake hands as well.

The police perimeter broke and the reporters lunged on Oda Otomo, flinging questions about the upcoming re-election, domestic issues, the kidnapping, and the rumor about him becoming the next Prime Minister. Oda smiled and waved while black suited bodyguards, rushing them toward their waiting vehicle, surrounded him and Aya. Aya kept looking back at Tomo and Torako. Her mouth opened and closed, and she slid into the limo with her boss.

"Break this garbage up," the chief said, and the uniformed cops began shooing away the reporters. Chief Akiyama faced his detectives. He looked at Tomo, thought better of it, and faced Torako.

"Great work," the chief said.

"Hell yeah we did great!" Tomo said, speaking for Torako. "Did you see me shoot that guy? He had a Gatling gun-"

"Tomo, get rid of those pants," he said, pointing at them with a hirsute finger. "What the hell? I mean really, what the hell? And stop lying to the reporters. I'm going to have to ask them not to use your interview footage."

"Oh come on chief, they aren't that bad," Tomo said. She reached down and zipped up her pants.

The chief pulled out a bottle of antacids. He opened the bottle and tossed several tablets into his mouth. He chewed them thoroughly before continuing.

"And furthermore, you can stop reporting on-" he pulled out a piece of paper dotted with hastily scribbled kanji. "-Ms. Tanizaki. We know you have a grudge against her, and anyway we've been disregarding your traffic reports for months. You guys got a lot of paperwork, so get on that before you start helping out the Ueno district."

"Ueno?" Tomo said. "That's in the Taito ward."

"Thanks for the geography lesson," the chief said. "Don't worry, it's temporary. Two of their detectives got arrested on corruption charges, and they need some backup until they rehire. It shouldn't be longer than a month. I'm sure you'll be able to juggle an extra district. You'll still be reporting to me."

"That's not much of an award," Tomo said. "You saw who we rescued, right? Oda Otomo's secretary! Our district one rep!"

"You didn't know who you rescued until just a couple of minutes ago, Takino," the chief said. "But if you want a reward, I tell you what. You two get the next two days off."

"Kick ass!" Tomo said, flinging her fist into the air.

"Although showing some initiative by finishing the paperwork will be noted. Dismissed," he said, with a wave of his hand. He turned and walked toward the crowd of reporters to shame them into going back home, calling them vultures and other unsavory terms relating to a lack of moral character.

Torako tapped Tomo on the shoulder. "Let's go," she said.

...

The Civic Type-R was cruising along at legal speed, as Torako was taking Tomo to her apartment. They had remained silent since getting in.

Tomo finally spoke. "Notice anything dodgy about that kidnapping? Something completely out of the ordinary?"

"I've never seen kidnappers so eager to kill their hostage," Torako said. "Usually they plead or try to negotiate a release, or attempt escape. These guys went into instant kill mode. There was something they didn't want to get out."

"Eh? What are you talking about? I meant that they used gaffers tape instead of duct tape to tie her to the chair. Who uses gaffers tape? Do they have some agenda against duct tape? It's a conspiracy by the duct tape-industrial complex, I'm telling you."

Torako frowned. "I wonder what antacids the chief uses?"

"Oh? And what does that mean?" Tomo said, fixing Torako with a mock angry stare. "Seriously though, yeah… they instantly tried to kill the hostage. And did you see how she kept looking at us when she got into the limo? I think she wanted to tell us something, but was afraid too. She had been trying to tell us something the instant you took that handkerchief out of her mouth."

"I noticed," Torako said. "It's out of our hands, though."

...

Tomo arrived at her apartment with less than an hour until midnight. She stormed up the stairs to the second floor, her mouth salivating at the thought of entering curry rice heaven. She unlocked her door, walked into the kitchen, and saw a man standing at the open fridge.

"Eek!" Tomo shouted. "There's a foreigner in my apartment!"

"I'm your husband, dummy," Rico Watanabe said. He pulled an empty box of orange juice out of the fridge. "I wish you'd stop putting empty cartons back in the fridge. I always get my hopes up, and you have to destroy them."

"It's my job," Tomo said, as she pulled her husband's head down and kissed him on the mouth. "You need to stop being so tall."

"I'll get to work on it," Rico said. "We're out of rice, by the way."

"Hey!" Tomo said. "The deal is I destroy your hopes, but you can't destroy mine!"

Rico put his fists on his waist and cocked his head. "The deal has changed," he said.

"Ha, not likely," Tomo said. She pulled out her wallet and grabbed a wad of thousand yen bills, holding them inches away from his face. "Now go out and get some curry rice."

"Are you serious? It's almost midnight!"

"So? I'm hungry," Tomo said. Her mouth spread into a manic leer. "Don't tell me you don't want that rich, spicy taste of curry, coating the delicate, fluffy grains of rice. That symphony of deliciousness playing in your mouth, that warm fuzzy feeling coating your stomach when you swallow. You don't want any of that?"

Rico's face showed his faltering resolve. He sighed and snatched the wad of yen out of her hand. "You suck," he said, after he put on his boots and coat.

"Get the red curry," Tomo said, as he left the apartment. She walked to living room and turned on the TV, wondering what she would do with her two days off.


	2. Chapter 2

The early morning sun began its assault on Tomo, infiltrating through the gaps in the closed blinds, sneaking into the bedroom, and creeping up the bed, with its crumpled sheets and still bodies, before hitting Tomo in the face. Tomo blinked and muttered, "Stupid sun."

She rubbed the remains of the attack out of her eyes before admiring the sleeping form of her husband. She grinned, grabbed his shoulder, and started rocking him awake.

"Hey, Rico! Hey!"

A slow and sleepy mumble came from the other side of the bed.

"Guess what?" Tomo said.

Rico turned over and blinked at Tomo. "…what?"

"I got laid last night!"

After several seconds of blinking, the grey film refusing to leave his eyes, Rico rolled over to face his side of the wall. "Yeah, I know."

"What? You were there?"

Rico let out a long, loud sigh. "Tomo, I don't have to go to work until 10:00 today. If you have any milk of human kindness flowing in your veins, for the sake of God and man, please let me sleep."

Tomo wasted a blank stare at her husband, who could only see the darkness behind his eyelids. "Wow, no one talks that way at all. You really do need to sleep."

"Like I said," Rico mumbled, already taking that train back to the world of unconsciousness.

Tomo hopped out of bed and pulled the sheets with her, stripping all cover from Rico, who was too busy snoring to complain. Tomo rooted around on the floor for her boxers and t-shirt before padding into the kitchen and opening the rice cooker.

"Rico!" she shouted. "We're out of rice."

A long groan exited the bedroom. "I told you that last night."

"Dammit, I want rice. I'm going next door."

"Wait, hold up," Rico said. Tomo heard the thunk of his feet hitting the floor, and after several seconds he entered the kitchen. "Don't bother her, it's too early. We'll find something else to eat."

"Nah, it's okay. You get to frying us some eggs there, and brew some coffee. And put on some pants, me and your mom worry about you all the time."

Rico's face sagged as he conceded defeat. There would be no chance of sleeping in this morning. He padded back into the bedroom. "At least invite her over for breakfast," he said.

...

Tomo stepped out onto the second floor walkway, open to the outside. The sun wasn't in view yet, since it was blocked by several buildings, but the sunlight filtering through the gaps and the streetlights shutting off signaled the start of a new day. Tomo stood in front of her neighbor's door and started pounding on it with her fist.

"Hey, Osaka!" Tomo said. "Get up! I need your rice cooker."

Enough time lapsed for Tomo to knock the opening melody to _The William Tell Overture_ before the doorknob began rattling. Osaka was apparently having difficulty navigating the lock, as the doorknob rattled for nearly ten seconds straight.

"You know that lever on the doorknob?" Tomo said. "You take it in your fingers and turn it. Then, you can open the door."

The door finally opened. The pajama-clad Osaka, saddled with sleep and looking to the world like the dopey high school student of ten years ago, repeated Rico's performance by blinking at Tomo. "I know that Tomo," she drawled, but Tomo had already pushed her away and entered the kitchen.

Tomo scanned the appliances like an old maid looking for deals at a going-out-of-business sale. She saw the rice cooker and said, "Aha!" She flipped it open. "Yep, full of rice!" Tomo unplugged the cooker and swiped it from off the counter.

Osaka staggered into her kitchen. She saw Tomo's actions and leaned backwards, her arms crossed in front of her like an X in an atavistic attempt to ward off the evil occurring in front of her. "No, not the rice cooker!"

"Eh? I told you I needed it."

"But that's the soul of my kitchen," Osaka said. "You killed my kitchen! It's a zombie now! You have to drive a wooden stake- no wait." She put a finger on her forehead to signal deep thinking, like a horrible parody of Rodin's sculpture. "Oh yeah! You have to shoot it in the brain." Osaka pointed at the microwave oven. "That's the brain. Then, you'll have to buy me a new kitchen, because it'll be dead. Again."

Tomo stood in the middle of the kitchen, cradling the rice cooker, discomfited by Osaka's insane, stream-of-consciousness rambling. It was a point of pride to Tomo that she always had a comeback or snappy answer, but Osaka sometimes inhabited a level of verbal and mental outré that Tomo just couldn't handle. So Tomo, as she had learned to do years ago in high school, changed the subject.

"Hey, you wanna come over for breakfast?"

Osaka flashed her goofy, simple smile. "Yeah, breakfast!"

...

Coffee was brewing, miso soup was simmering, and Rico was already frying eggs.

"Eek! A foreigner!" Tomo said as she entered her apartment.

"What? Where?" Osaka said, looking around with her hand shading her eyes.

"Ha. Ha." Rico looked up at the entering ladies. "Hey! The Big O!"

Osaka made an exaggerated, outdoors wave at Rico. "Morning Rico, thanks for breakfast."

"Don't call her Big O," Tomo said as she set the rice machine on the kitchen counter and plugged it in. "Her name is Osaka."

"You took the entire rice machine?" Rico said. Tomo abandoned propriety and stuck her hand in the rice machine, grabbed a clump of rice, and stuffed it into her mouth. "It's no big deal," Tomo said, the snowstorm of rice in her mouth getting tossed around with each word. "She's getting it back, and she's getting free breakfast."

"It's not so free if she has to give rice."

"You just keep cooking," Tomo said, grains of rice stuck to her face. "Come on Osaka, let's go sit down."

They stepped into the TV room, but Osaka stopped on the threshold. "Oh, hey," Osaka said. Tomo looked at her, and she pointed into the kitchen. "Rico Watanabe, right?"

"Yeah, you know who he is."

Osaka pointed at Tomo. "Tomo Takino, right?"

"Uh, yeah?"

Osaka pointed back and forth between the kitchen and Tomo. "Husband and wife, right?"

Tomo squinted at Osaka as if she was looking through the wrong end of a telescope. "Are you really that out of it? Do you need to go back to bed?"

"No, no, I was just wondering why you didn't take his last name."

"Oh that," Tomo snorted. "Watanabe's a common name."

"Eh? I can't see it."

"Oh come on," Tomo said. "How many people do you know named Watanabe?"

"Oh, lots and lots."

"And how many people do you know named Takino?"

"Just you, Tomo."

"Exactly," Tomo said. "Why, if he had any sense, Rico would take my name instead! I'd totally let him borrow it, too."

Inside the kitchen came the sound of breaking glass. Tomo decided this was good a time as any to turn on the TV.

Rico brought out the rice, omelets, miso soup, and coffee, and a bottle of ketchup for Tomo. They sat down at the table, said a blessing, and started eating. Tomo turned on the TV and switched it to a child's cartoon, full of the community-affirming values of group friendship and belonging, but Rico one-upped her when he changed it to the harsh misanthropic glare of the early morning news.

Tomo brightened. "Oh yeah! I might be on TV!"

"No way," Osaka said. "How'd you pull that off?

"Oh, me and Torako broke up a kidnapping," Tomo said. "Apparently it was a secretary for some politician guy with two last names, and the news guys were everywhere."

"Oh, I thought you meant you got on a game show or something," Osaka said. "I always wanted to be on that quiz show, you know, with that thing that does… that thing."

"We all need dreams to get us through life," Tomo said, slurping down her soup. Insight struck like an overdrawn account and she slammed down her bowl. "Hey! That was a total comeback! I'm better than ever!"

"Nah, that was kinda lame," Rico said. "I mean, it's something you'd hear on an unfunny sitcom with a laugh track."

"He's right Tomo," Osaka said. "That needed some work."

"Pfft, like you two even know what I'm talking about," Tomo said. She frowned and shoveled rice into her mouth like a dog digging for his buried bone. "Seriously though, keep it on here and maybe you'll see me- There! There I am!"

She pointed at the screen, and grabbed the remote to turn up the volume. Indeed, it was a news report about the rescue of Aya Suzuki. The news reporter showed Oda Otomo's speech and his thanking the two detectives, his ring reflecting the flash of the cameras.

"Wow, way to go doll," Rico said. He winked at Tomo. "They keep saying he's going to be the prime minister one day. Maybe you'll get a reward or a medal."

"Nah, really? You mean it?" Tomo said. She scratched the back of her head in a brazen display of humility and modesty. "Wow, that would be nice. I did single handedly rescue his secretary. I mean, I did it for justice, you know, but recognition of my many feats, well, that would be great too!"

Osaka pointed at the TV screen and asked, "Why are your pants unzipped?" Rico choked back laughter. He barely dodged the remote Tomo threw at him.

...

It was late morning, and both Osaka and Rico had left for their respective jobs. Tomo was sitting on the bus. She had one errand – wire some of Rico's money to his relatives in Brazil – and she was contemplating showing up at the office. Getting the paperwork done was the official reason, but she wanted to rub last night's victory in Kazumi's face. She also had a prank going concerning Kazumi's snack supply, so she had to see the fruits of that, not to mention basking in admiration from her co-workers for a job well done.

After she wired the money to her in-laws, Tomo hit the sidewalk and walked toward the Kojimachi district police station, where she and Torako covered the entire Chiyoda ward. Tomo wanted to be stationed in the much prettier Manseibashi police station, but she destroyed any chances of that when she drove a patrol car through the front entrance and parked it in the lobby. Stupid birds, Tomo thought, shaking her fist at the memory. I'll get you yet.

A mother holding the hand of her young son saw Tomo shaking her fist. The mother grabbed her child and quickly ran down the sidewalk. Hmm, better be more careful with my plans for vengeance, Tomo thought.

It was an unusually hot October morning because the sun decided to throw one last, angry blast of heat before being restrained for autumn and winter. Tomo was dressed simply in a t-shirt and shorts, the shorts having a functioning zipper. When Tomo had discovered, too late, that her pants had a faulty zipper, she decided to make the best of a bad situation by zipping it up in the most inopportune moments, usually in front of Torako. Torako was just too good at hiding any irritation she may have felt, and it was hard for Tomo to tell if she made an effect on someone who frowned all the time. Tomo made a promise to get Torako yet... and there she was, walking down the sidewalk toward their police headquarters.

"Hey Torako!" Tomo shouted, waving. Torako nodded and slightly quickened her pace toward Tomo. She wore a white shirt, denim jeans with no belt loops, Doc Martens cleaned and polished, and suspenders. Everything was tucked in, creases were sharp, and not a wrinkle or a speck of dirt was to be seen. Even in casual attire, Torako was immaculately dressed.

"Morning Tomo," Torako said in her quiet, steady voice. "Glad to see you decided to get that paperwork done. Don't need the chief on your case again."

"Wow, do you even iron your suspenders?" Tomo asked, grabbing the left suspender and snapping it. Torako grunted because it snapped into her nipple. She tried to discretely rub it, but there was no way to do so on a busy sidewalk.

Tomo's eyes widened. "Hey missy, none of that! This is a respectable town! And in front of the police headquarters, for shame!"

"Let's go in," Torako said. She turned toward the office before Tomo could protest.

...

Torako received a hero's welcome, her fellow police officers standing up and applauding.

"Tiger! Great job!"

"You're the best Torako!"

Torako walked through the gauntlet of praise with a modest bow of her head. "Thank you," she said, heading toward her desk. The mood in the office was one of pride and admiration. Flowers bloomed in her presence, birds sang songs of love, deer fed peacefully in the pasture, and everything was right with the world.

Tomo ruined it. "Hey guys, did you see us on the news today? Huh, huh? Wasn't that AWESOME!" Tomo flitted from desk to desk as the officers coughed, frowned, or pretended to be occupied with something else, although a few gracious co-workers congratulated her.

"Hey, where's Kazumi," Tomo said, scanning the office. She shaded her eyes with her hand like a pirate lookout in a crow's nest. "She's not in today?"

"Um, she's talking to the chief," said a skinny young man wearing glasses, demonstrating a nervous, awkward manner known worldwide as "nerd".

"Thanks Megane, I'll keep on the lookout," Tomo said. Megane was the only nickname Tomo distributed in this office that actually stuck, mostly because the person in question didn't protest it. Megane stuttered something and headed back toward his forensics lab in the other side of the building.

Tomo plopped down at her desk, placed head to head with Torako's. Torako was steadily typing in her police report. Tomo put her feet on her desk, leaned back, and gazed at the ceiling.

"TAKINO!" That was undeniably Kazumi's voice. Tomo smiled and sat up. Oh boy, she thought, let the fun begin!

Kazumi Kondo marched toward Tomo's desk with a purpose and drive that would make Patton flinch, Montgomery retreat, and Rommel switch sides. The click of her heels echoed throughout the office like gunfire, even overpowering the drone of ringing phones, conversations, and police radio chatter. Her long hair was dyed silver and cut hime style. The hairstyle fit her piercing, avian nose and her majestic, pointed cheekbones. She certainly did look like a princess, and the royal purple Victorian style dress she wore underlined this point.

Tomo smiled and waved. "Hiya Kazumi!"

"YOU will call me Ms. KONDO," she said, glaring at Tomo. "You don't know me well enough to call me Kazumi, and you never will." Tomo affected her masterful stupid idiot look; blank eyes and a slightly open, drooping mouth. She had mastered this look with years of practice, and if a contest were held that day for the most stupid look possible, Tomo would win by unanimous decision.

Kazumi, however, would not be distracted. She shoved an open bag of potato chips in Tomo's face.

"How do you explain this?" she asked.

Tomo pretended to study the bag carefully. "I think they take potatoes and slice them in small, thin wafers and-"

Kazumi turned the bag upside down, and Styrofoam peanuts drifted down to Tomo's desk.

"Wow," Tomo said. "I never saw that flavor before."

Kazumi dropped the bag on Tomo's desk. "You broke into my stash, and you ate my chips. Then, you filled them with packing peanuts and glued it shut! Just try and deny it!"

"Yeah, I did it."

"Because I have pr- WHAT? You admit it?"

Tomo leaned back in her chair and folded her hands behind her head, fingers interlaced. "Well, duh, who else would do it? Megane? The chief? You really need to calm down and learn to appreciate life. It's just a bag of chips, totally insignificant on a cosmic scale."

"That's not the point!" Kazumi said. Her angry, accusatory glare had devolved into one of desperation and astonishment, like an impatient adult trying to communicate with an autistic child. "You broke into my desk when I specifically asked you not to! Don't you have any respect for people's boundaries?"

"What? You're still talking about that? Kazumi, that's in the past. Lighten up. Now if you don't mind, I got work to do." Tomo leaned forward and switched on her computer. "And could you clean up this stuff you spilled on my desk? It's totally unprofessional."

The office went silent as it watched Kazumi imitate a steaming teakettle. Before she reached the boiling point, Torako put her hand on her shoulder, effectively taking the kettle off the stove.

"Kazumi," she said. "Leave your desk unlocked. Let Tomo get what she wants."

Kazumi, noticeably calmer, looked at Torako with confusion. "What? What sense does that make?"

"The only reason she does it is because you banned her from your stash, and locked her out of your desk. Take those things away and she'll eventually stop stealing your food."

Tomo, with an expression of having just bit into sour candy, glared at Torako. Great, she thought, Torako is ruining my fun.

Kazumi was breathing steadily now. "I… see. Thanks, Torako." She made one last glare at Tomo, pointed and icy. "It's Ms. Kondo. Get it right." She turned around and walked away, taking full, purposeful strides.

"Later, honey buns."

Kazumi faltered, but sped up her pace toward the sanctuary of her desk.

"Heh heh," Tomo said. "And you," she said, glaring at Torako across the desk, "What's your deal?"

"She's going to snap if you keep this up," Torako said. "I don't have anything against you pulling the occasional prank, but what you did could be construed as harassment."

"Oh please," Tomo said. "She gets what she deserves for being so full of herself. Like she's royalty. Pfft." Tomo turned back toward her monitor and started filling her report. "…tell me what to do…" she muttered.

"Well, maybe you should lay off of her for a while."

"Wow, you're still talking about the past too? Man, everyone's obsessed with nostalgia these days. Well, not me sister, I'm in to the future! And in the future I see…" Tomo wheeled her chair toward Torako. She poked each side of her own forehead with an index finger, like a cheap seer at a suspicious carnival. "…it's coming… it's coming… Ah! Lunch at Osaka's taqueria!"

"Sounds good," Torako said.

"Doesn't it?"

"I'd like to see what The Big O has cooking today."

"Her name is Osaka!" Tomo shouted, slamming her hand on her desk.

...

Osaka's taqueria was in the Kanda district, so Torako and Tomo took the bus to get there. Torako couldn't use the Civic because she was officially off duty (Tomo simply couldn't use it at all). The cold front rolled in and fought back against the unruly sun, cooling the weather. The pair decided to sit at one of the outside tables and ordered beer, Torako with a Negra Modelo, and Tomo choosing Corona because it was the cheapest. Torako affected a slightly bored look and had an arm propped over her chair while she stretched her legs out in front of her, a practiced pose she borrowed from a James Dean movie.

Osaka walked over carrying a plate of chips and two bowls of salsa, one green and one red. "Hey guys," Osaka said as she sat down at their table. "Thanks for comin' by!"

"Oh, so the help mingles with the customers, eh? What a progressive place you run, Osaka." Tomo said.

"Hey Tomo," Osaka said. She looked around with a conspiratorial air, and then beckoned Tomo to come closer. Tomo leaned in, and Osaka said, "Did you ever find that foreigner in your apartment?"

"Uhh… yeah…?"

"Oh, great!" Osaka said. She leaned over the table and dipped a chip in the red salsa. "I couldn't see him nowhere, so I'm glad you caught him."

Tomo could tell if Osaka was joking or was serious, so she switched subjects. "So Osaka! Didn't you used to hate spicy stuff?"

"Yeah, I did," Osaka said, biting into a chip. Torako chose the green sauce and carefully nibbled her chip. "But I had to be in Mexico for a while and kinda got used to it."

"Wow, Mexico," Torako said. "What were you doing there- OW!" Torako leaned down and rubbed her shin while Tomo glared daggers and the occasional bullet at Torako.

Osaka didn't appear to notice. "That's the thing, I don't remember. I came to and was staring at a chicken taco, right? In Matamoros. The first thing I thought was how am I eating a taco with hot peppers in it, see, and I knew I wasn't just staring at one that someone else ate, because I had part of it in my mouth. Unless someone else chewed it and put it in my mouth, which seems to be just too much work overall. Anyway, I had to start figuring out where I was, discovered that I'd blacked out for five months, ended up in Mexico, and was speaking Spanish and everything. I still have no idea how I got there or what I even did. But I liked the food so much, I learned how to cook it-"

The door leading to the restaurant opened, and one of the cooks stuck her head out. "Ms. Kasuga! I need help with this mole amarillo!"

"Ah," Osaka said, "I'll be right back." She got up and walked toward the restaurant, letting out a singsong "Heh heh heh" as she did.

Tomo put her head in her hands as Torako stared skyward in disbelief. "Torako? Never ask her anything. Ever. Only I'm qualified to do that." Tomo conveniently ignored that it was her question that started all this.

Torako took a sip from her beer. "Wow," she said. "Didn't you tell me she went missing back when you two were in college?"

Tomo leaned back. "Yeah, for six years-"

"Six years? Did you do anything, like try to find her?"

Tomo jerked forward. "Of course I did! But come on, it's Osaka. She's been like this since high school. We were roommates in college, and at the end of the second year, she said she had to go. I didn't take her seriously. I thought she meant go to the store or something. Six years later, I'm unlocking the door to my apartment at the same time Osaka unlocks her door. She hadn't changed a bit since college... except that she has BOOBS," Tomo said, a bit too loudly. Conversation at the surrounding tables died down as the guests stole glances at Tomo before the background chatter rebounded to its normal volume. "That was… almost two years ago."

"You didn't even ask her where she'd been?"

"Yeah... but that didn't get me anywhere. For instance, she asked me why I wasn't at Interpol, and I told her I found out they were a bunch of paper-pushing bureaucrats. So, I asked her why she wasn't a school teacher."

"What did she say?"

"She said the Japanese government wouldn't let her, because she was a security risk."

The calm, stoic Torako gave a bugged eye look. Tomo decided it was because she was drinking beer, and stored away this information for future use.

"Dead serious," Tomo said. "So, I try not to ask questions about what she did those six years." Tomo got silent and serious; a combination that bothered Torako. It was unnatural that anything could worry this carefree spirit. Tomo stared at her beer and said, "She hasn't dug into my past, so I won't dig into hers."

Torako reached for a chip, keeping Tomo in her vision. "Why not? Is there something you don't want her knowing?"

Tomo didn't answer, and the two remained silent until the waitress brought out their food.

...

That night, Tomo saw her younger self, pulling nails from a wooden balcony in the pale moonlight. She screamed and pleaded at herself to stop, but she wouldn't. The young Tomo looked at her future self and said, "Answer the phone, moron."

"Ugh," Tomo said, as she sat up on the couch. "Not again." She rubbed her eyes and let the shrill ringing cut through the house, drowning out the sports show's commentary about the dismal performance of the Chunichi Dragons in the recent playoff Series. She grabbed the phone.

"Yeah?"

"Tomo." It was Torako's voice. "Need you here. Police business."

"What? It's our day off! Where are you?"

"Ueno."

"WHAT?"

"Can't be helped," Torako said. "Emergency. Sent a patrol car to pick you up, so don't use the 'I can't drive' excuse." Torako broke the connection.

Well, goodbye vacation, Tomo thought. She got ready for her police escort.


	3. Chapter 3

Tomo exited the patrol car and strutted like an overrated rock star toward the service entrance of the hotel, the early evening sun making the four-story granite building reflect like a polished marble floor in an upscale bank. The officer felt great relief at beating the rush hour traffic, because Tomo pushed every button, turned every dial, and searched every compartment and console in his patrol vehicle. If the trip had taken any longer, she would've been hitching a ride with tire tracks on her face.

Tomo made sure the pants she wore didn't have a malfunctioning zipper, and they fit nicely with the blue shirt tightly covering her lithe little body. Because the weather permitted it (and it smiled mercifully on Tomo this evening, much like a governor making a call to an execution chamber), she wore her green trench coat with its multitude of equipment to enforce justice, protect the innocent, and (because Tomo always permitted it) cause hilarity.

The Civic Type-R was parked on the curb, with a patrol car next to it, the lights flashing red and blue against the building's wall and dumpster. Next to the car was an ambulance, with the paramedics sitting up front relating some story that required expansive gestures from the driver, and head shaking from the passenger.

Leaning against the wall next to the service entrance and staring at the ground was Torako, wearing the same get up she had on earlier today, except for an old East German military jacket and… what was this now? Smoking a cigarette?

"Torako!" Tomo said. "Wow, there's something different about you today! Wait, don't tell me… you got a haircut!"

Torako, holding her cigarette, blew smoke before lifting her head and fixing Tomo with a slightly bored stare.

"Oh, I know," Tomo said, looking down at Torako's Doc Martens, the left boot horribly scuffed. "You got a pedicure!"

Torako waited a beat before speaking. "Third floor," she said. "Already took pictures of the crime scene. It's the one with the police tape and officer Masa guarding the door. You can't miss it." Torako looked toward the darkening sky, as if searching for something that wasn't there. She took another puff, exhaled smoke, and said, "I'll be up shortly."

"What's with the cigarette, huh? Thought you quit."

Torako, cigarette dangling in her mouth, stared at Tomo and didn't say a word.

"Well geez, have a bad attitude then," Tomo said. "See if I care!" Tomo snatched the cigarette out of Torako's mouth and stubbed it against the wall before flicking it into the patch of brown grass next to the dumpster. Flinging the glass door open, she stomped into the hotel. When Tomo reached the end of the hall where the elevators were located, she looked back and saw Torako light up another one.

Sheesh, what's her problem, Tomo thought. She exited onto the third floor and found the uniformed officer Masa standing in front of a room.

Tomo walked up and flashed her badge. "Detective Takino of the Intergalactic Patrol. The occupant of this room has space rabies, and I need to take him into quarantine. Order an evacuation of the city, it's going to be violent."

"Uh… that says Tokyo Po-"

"Yeah yeah yeah, I'm busy here," Tomo said, as she stepped over the police tape that only worked when people took 'Do Not Cross' as an order instead of a suggestion. She took inventory of the room, deciding it was nothing special; just a standard issue western style hotel room. In the closet next to the door was an overturned black cloth suitcase with its clothes strewn out like guts from an eviscerated warrior. Tomo put on her vinyl gloves and rifled through the clothes. She decided, after painstaking analysis that took about ten seconds, that there was only one change of clothes in the suitcase, and nothing more.

Tomo checked in the bathroom and saw a pearly white leather purse sitting on the counter with its contents poured into the sink. A glance at the sink was enough to tell her what was left: purple lipstick, a condom, a green packet of sour apple gum with three sticks, and a nondescript ball point pen. She went through the purse and found nothing. The trashcan was also empty.

She walked out of the bathroom. The TV was lying on the floor, with its screen caved in. The bedspread was pulled halfway off the bed, although the sheets underneath were as clean and tight as when the maid stretched them out that morning. The table in the corner had blood on the edge, and a puddle of blood stained the carpet underneath it, with an overturned chair lying next to it. Between the bed and the window, next to the bloodied bedspread, was a dead woman.

Tomo crouched over the dead victim. Rigor mortis hadn't arrived yet to kick out pallor mortis, which was strutting around on her pale skin, so the victim was probably killed less than three hours ago. The forensics lab would have to place the exact time of death.

The victim had light brown hair, obviously dyed, and from what Tomo could tell from the face, she was beautiful, although it was a banal, conventional beauty. The corpse was laying on her right side, facing the bed. The back of her head was encrusted with blood, and blood was on her fingers and palms. Tomo lifted the victim's hair and saw purple splotches on her neck. She rifled through the pockets of the victim's red dress and zip-up cotton jacket, but found nothing. There were balls of lint on the floor, so the murderer had already cleaned out the jacket pockets.

Tomo lifted up the corpse's hand… what's this? She took out her tweezers and pulled a clump of green thread stuck in the victim's cracked fingernail. She observed it closely… probably ripped from the murderer's clothes while fighting for her life. Tomo put it in an evidence bag and stuffed it in her pocket.

The green thread seemed a bit too thick to be from a normal jacket, so Tomo got on her hands and knees and prowled the floor for a lost coat button. She found the button under the bed, where it had rolled when the victim ripped it off the murderer's coat. She grabbed it and put it in an evidence bag too.

Torako walked into the room, sans cigarette. She sat on the dresser where the TV would have been, looked at the corpse, and faced Tomo.

"Front desk gets a phone call," Torako said. "We traced it to a payphone at Tokyo station, so we have no ID on the caller. The caller, a female according to the desk clerk, says to check on the person in this room. The clerk sends up her assistant, who finds this. He calls the paramedics, who come here and see that she's dead. They call the cops, and here I am. I call you, and there you are. So," she said, "what do you think happened?"

"Well, this is the way I see it," Tomo said, standing up to face her audience. She made a stance like a rock guitarist about the strike the opening power chord of a hit song. "She died of blunt force trauma. The guy grabbed her by the neck," – she pointed at the victim's neck – "choked her, and slammed her head against the table, which seems pretty awkward. She flailed a bit and knocked the chair down, but it didn't do much good. He thought she was dead and left the hotel. But she wasn't dead, because she crawled and tried to lift herself onto the bed, but instead only pulled the bedspread off and bloodied it. I'm betting the blood on her hands is hers, like she felt the back of her head or something."

Tomo pointed at the phone on the nightstand. "She was trying to pull herself up on the bed to reach the phone, but lost consciousness and died before that could happen."

"Why would she be killed?" Torako said. She had her chin propped in her hand. She was as still as a narcoleptic sloth.

"Eh? What got into you? Forgot how to be a detective?" Tomo put her hand on her chest and thrust out her chin. "Or maybe you've finally realized who the real brains of this operation is? Well, about time."

Tomo pointed at the corpse. "She's fully clothed, still wearing shoes, nothing wrinkled or put on wrong, and she's still wearing makeup. And except for the bedspread, the bed is made up. So, no sex took place here, but I didn't smell it anyway. However, my instincts are telling me she's a prostitute. She met a john here, and they got into an argument over money or some kinky sex position she didn't agree to, he lost his temper, and killed her."

"This isn't a love hotel." Torako said, spitting out the words as if they tasted of rotten fruit. Tomo arched an eyebrow, surprised at her partner's vehement tone. "Why would she bring a change of clothes?"

"Okay, that's a gap in my theory, but let me work this out. When the murderer thought she was dead, he stole anything that could identify her. Driver's license, bus pass, uh, cell phone, whatever she had on her."

Tomo walked over to the TV and studied it like Einstein working out the photoelectric effect, her closed hand propped under her chin. "The only thing I'm not getting is the TV. It's like he threw it down and started kicking the hell out of it. All of tonight's action took place right here," Tomo said, pointing at the area between the window and the bed, "so this doesn't make any sense. Maybe he-"

"I did that," Torako said.

"Eh wa?"

"I broke the TV," Torako said.

Tomo looked at Torako's scuffed shoe. "Is there something you're not telling me, pard? Who is this girl?"

"Asagi Ayase."

"And what's an Asagi Ayase?"

"She was my best friend," Torako said. She demonstrated Zeno's paradox by moving her gaze toward Asagi's body, but never reaching the goal. "We drifted apart. She started running with a bad crowd. Gangsters. Drug pushing, gambling, that sort of thing. We lost touch."

"Ah ha!" Tomo said. She affected the hammy voice of a movie trailer announcer and held up an imaginary microphone. "One friend becomes a cop, protector of truth and justice. The other becomes a gangster, distributer of vice and misery. Who will-" Tomo stopped, the hair on her neck standing at attention. Torako towered over her, her stare as cold and lifeless as permafrost on the Yukon.

"Um, Tora-"

Torako led with a brilliant uppercut, snapping her hand into a fist just before the point of impact. Her sharp and pointed knuckles smashed into Tomo's jaw, jerking her head sideways, and twisting her body like a patisserie working dough into a pretzel. Tomo thudded against the floor. Officer Masa, standing in front of the doorway, stuck his head into the room and decided he saw nothing.

Calmly and rationally, Torako stepped toward Tomo's twitching body as if she had all eternity to express her rage. She grabbed Tomo by the collar and lifted her ear to her mouth.

"You have no shame," Torako said, slowly and quietly, like a Talmudic scholar reading in an undertone. "You have no empathy. Everything is a game to you, so you can put on the Tomo show and be the center of attention. Not here. Not now. Not with me."

Torako dropped Tomo and stepped away. Tomo sprung upward, working her jaw like a cow chewing cud. She rubbed a bruise seeping across her skin, her expression hard. Torako rubbed her knuckles, blue and blotchy, and warily eyed Tomo.

"Is that all you've got to say to me?" Tomo said.

"Yeah," Torako said.

"Good," Tomo said, and she slapped her, savage and harsh. It was delivered with such force and verve that Joan Crawford's ghost entered the room and applauded.

"Don't you even start!" Tomo yelled. "If you can't take a joke, then… well… you suck!"

Torako moved her head back slowly, raising her eyes to meet Tomo's. Torako didn't touch the red welt on her face, didn't produce a glint of tears or a quiver of her lip. Quietly, she said, "Tomo. Can't you show any kind of compassion?"

No one spoke. Foreseeing the actual, final ruin of their partnership, perhaps even their friendship, Tomo took a giant leap across the chasm of her self-centered worldview to patch this up. She put her hand on Torako's shoulder. "Torako, I'm sorry. I shouldn't joke about this, I know. You lost a friend and I'm being an ass about it. Bad form."

Torako didn't move. Tomo wasn't sure what else to say. She scratched the back of her head, moved away from Torako, and faced the curtains closed over the window. She grabbed the curtains and pulled them away from each other, exposing the view of sky and buildings outside. The final haze of the setting sun burned below the newly twinkling stars. She imagined she could see Ueno Park in the distance.

"I'm sorry I hit you," Torako said.

"Thanks. Don't worry about it, I guess I deserved it."

"I've hit people with less force than I hit you, and they got knocked out," Torako said. "I'm surprised you were able to take it."

"Eh, I got experience in dealing with uppercuts," Tomo said, still looking out the window.

"Seriously? How many times have you been hit?"

Tomo shrugged her shoulders. "Just stuff in the past, don't feel like talking about it. Listen, we've already contaminated the murder scene, so we got stuff to explain to the chief. But I'm promising you; we'll find who killed Agasi-"

"Asagi"

"-Asagi, and bring him to justice." Tomo turned around and gave Torako the thumbs-up sign. "So, let's get started and crack this case wide open!"

Torako's face slowly lost its Moai-like sternness. "Yeah, let's get started."

Outside the room, officer Masa wondered what sort of crazy people could act this way while a dead body lay on the floor, and decided to put in a request to be assigned another district as soon as possible.

...

The coroner ruled Asagi dead, so the waiting paramedics collected Asagi's corpse, placing it in a body bag while Torako watched Asagi's face, eyes closed, for the last time as the paramedics zipped up the bag. They placed her on a stretcher and carried her out of the room.

Forensics swabbed blood samples from the floor, furniture, and bedspread, and collected the remaining items. Tomo criticized the surly forensics officers while Torako, hands in the pockets of her military jacket, stood at the window. She watched the ambulance pull out of the parking lot and onto the street, driving away from the hotel, taking Asagi with it. Torako bowed her head, shut the curtains, and turned toward the forensics squad as they argued with an increasingly vociferous Tomo.

"Let's get out," Torako said. Tomo harrumphed, but followed her out of the room.

Torako ordered two police officers to guard the entrances to the hotel, prohibiting anyone from leaving or entering if they didn't have a badge. The rest at her disposal were to go door-to-door to explain the situation and question the guests.

The registry showed the room checked in Asagi's name, and that she had reserved it yesterday. She paid the deposit in cash, so there was no check to trace back to a bank, or credit card to follow to a home address. Tomo and Torako personally interviewed the few people staying on the third floor, but no one saw Asagi or anyone else enter the room, or head any suspicious sounds. Except for the desk clerk currently on duty, the rest of the staff didn't remember seeing Asagi, or anyone else asking for that room.

Tomo and Torako decided to review the security tapes right after Asagi checked in.

The clerk went to collect the recording while Tomo stood around behind the front desk, watching the snowy static on the monitor connected to the VHS. Tomo furrowed her brow. "You know, there's something I'm forgetting here."

Torako was standing in the doorway to the front desk. She was leaning on her hand propped up high on the jamb. The other hand was on her waist, in perfect imitation of Steve McQueen on the Bullitt poster. "What's that? About the murder scene?"

"I think so," Tomo said, "I did something… forgot to do something…"

Torako watched Tomo's mental battle with herself with calm amusement, like a satiated cat watching a fight between two mice. Tomo suddenly pounded her fist in her palm.

"That's it!" Tomo said. "It's that kidnapping case we solved! I forgot to rub it in Kazumi's face today. Remind me to do that tomorrow, okay Torako?"

"Sure," Torako said, entering the front desk area. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. They waited for the clerk to bring back the footage.

...

They were at the front desk, watching monitor play footage from the past two hours, showing Asagi first checking in. The monitor showed the still living Asagi, smiling and joking with the clerk before taking the elevator to her impending death. Asagi's smile and shining eyes contained no hint or omen of what awaited her in that room. Tomo looked behind her at Torako, who was now maintaining her standard issue cool.

"I'm alright," Torako said. Tomo wasn't sure, but she didn't argue the point.

"She doesn't look like she was afraid," Tomo said. "So I don't think she was hiding out."

"Yeah, I think she knew the guy coming in," Torako said. "She wouldn't have let anyone in she didn't know."

The rest of the tape showed only three other guests checking in, all accounted for in their rooms. There were no mysterious visitors. The footage of the service entrance only showed the hotel staff members, all of whom were accounted for.

Torako rolled back the footage to when Asagi first checked in. She grabbed the highest-ranking officer and told him to lead a search of the entire hotel, go room to room, and look for any items that could identify Asagi Ayase. All of the guests complied with the officers asking to search their rooms, while the staff let the officers into the unoccupied rooms. Nothing was found.

"How do you leave a hotel but not show up on the security cameras?" Torako said.

"Maybe he hasn't left yet," Tomo said, but both doubted this. They had thoroughly searched the hotel, including the roof, boiler room, and elevator shafts. Tomo and Torako began the boring process of interviewing the staff on duty.

...

The time rolled around to 21:15 when the desk clerk brought them tea. It had a pungent and forceful taste that made one think it was brewed from Satan's anus. Torako took a sip, held it in her mouth without comment or reaction, and then spit it back into the cup. She put the cup on the counter.

"Damn fine tea!" Tomo said, after draining her plastic cup, pale yellow form years of machine washing. She slammed it down on the counter, eyed Torako's (mostly) untouched cup, and asked if she could have it.

"I spit in it," Torako said.

"That's not what I asked," Tomo said. "Can I have it?"

"Hell no," Torako said. "I'm not going to watch you drink my spit."

Tomo leaned her chair over to make a grab for it. Torako kicked the leg out from under the chair, catapulting Tomo from her seat and sprawling her across the floor. Torako grabbed her tea, sprinted to the employee rec room, and poured it down the sink.

"Hey, no fair!" Tomo said when she entered. "You weren't gonna to drink it!"

"Tomo, there's a whole pot of that stuff if you want it."

"But I wanted yours," Tomo whined, following Torako back to the front desk. The desk clerk was already formulating a complaint against their unprofessional behavior when Torako approached her.

"Any incoming or outgoing calls while she was in the room?" Torako asked the clerk. She figured this unlikely, since everyone has a cell phone.

The hotel desk clerk checked the phone logs. "One incoming call, but nothing else," she said. She gave the detectives the number that had called the room. It had happened two minutes before the anonymous call from Tokyo Station.

"Assuming that Asagi had a cell phone, why would anyone call the room?" Torako said aloud, to facilitate her own thinking.

Tomo decided to take the question as directed at her. "Real simple, Watson. They called her cell phone, and when she didn't answer, they called her hotel room. Her escort service knew what room she p-"

Torako palmed her forehead. "Are you still going with this prostitute angle?"

"Watch." Tomo flipped out her pink cell phone, dotted with daises. She put it on speaker and dialed the number the clerk took from the phone logs. While the phone was ringing, Tomo shot a smug, self-satisfied look at Torako. It was the physical manifestation of what a dictator of an island nation would feel on the inside.

The phone picked up. "Hello, this is Broodwich Bakery. May we take your order?"

Tomo gave a shocked, surprised look that same dictator would have, but only after being disposed by his peasants and forced to work in the salt mines. Torako smirked and looked at the ceiling.

"Uh, yeah," Tomo said. "We want… bread?"

"Excellent, we are glad you chose Broodwich Bakery. We cook a wide variety of artesian styles breads, from many different grains."

"Don't need the sales pitch," Tomo said. "I just want to know where your store is located. And, uh… what time do you close?"

Tomo wrote down the address on hotel stationary. She muttered thanks and hung up.

"Okay," Tomo said. "I know this looks bad, but it's obviously a front. They call it a bakery, but it's all coded language. Ordering bread? More like ordering prostitutes. Let's see…" Tomo paced around the front desk. "I guess rye would mean Jewish prostitutes…"

Tomo turned to look at Torako, arms crossed, and leaning against the desk. She had a disapproving stare, like a dean at a prestigious university watching a duck take the entrance exam.

"Okay, I admit it, maybe my theory was a little off," Tomo said, throwing her hands in the air. "But look at this!" She thrust the notes in front of Torako's face and jabbed at the dyslexic scribbles like a child poking his finger in cookie batter. "What bakery stays open until 10:30? That's way too late. Let's ride over there and check it out."

...

After thanking the guests and hotel staff for their cooperation, Torako assigned police officers to guard the entrances and the murder scene. She tasked other officers to check and record the ID of everyone that entered and left the hotel. She told officer Masa to contact the next of kin, a job Torako simply didn't feel up to.

They both got in the Civic, Tomo jumping in and thudding against the seat like a cannonball, Torako gliding smooth like a gymnast sliding across the mat. Tomo waited for the inquisitive growl of the igniting engine, but it wasn't coming.

Torako had both hands on the wheel. The key was in the ignition. She wasn't moving.

"Torako? You okay?"

"I don't know," Torako said. "I don't know what to feel. About Asagi's murder. I mean, it goes back and forth. Sometimes, I get so angry I can't control myself-"

Tomo kept her comment to herself.

"-and then it all disappears and I just feel… contempt, maybe? I wish I had patched things up with her, but I know we drifted too far apart for that to happen. You and me… well, I act like I'm bored of the whole thing, you screw around and make jokes. We're treating this like every other crime scene we've been at, offending people watching us, making them think we're heartless, but hey… I never cared before. We never cared. It was our method. But this time, it just feels wrong. It's like a betrayal." Torako put her hands in her lap. "Deep down, she's still my friend, no matter what."

Tomo struggled with what to say. She wants me to show compassion, Tomo thought, but how? What do I say? How do I do that? Geez Torako, why are you making this so difficult? Hmm… maybe I should offer to help.

"Hey, you want me to drive?"

Torako twisted the key, starting the engine. She tapped the gear shifter into reverse and slammed the gas, flinging the Civic out into the street. She jerked the wheel, slinging the car's front around, tires screeching, shifted into drive, and blasted away from the hotel like it was a first stage rocket booster falling back to Earth.

"Thanks, Tomo. I needed that."

"Oh shut up," Tomo said.

They sped toward the bakery.


	4. Chapter 4

Tomo was busy elaborating her 'Asagi-is-a-prostitute' theory to a disbelieving Torako, when Torako decided it was time to put an end to that nonsense.

"I'm going to regret saying this," Torako said. She exited the highway and headed toward a business district.

"Oh? What's that?" Tomo said.

"Tomo, when it comes to busting cases, you have great powers of observation. The best I've ever seen. No one can deconstruct a crime scene or find evidence like you."

Tomo was beaming so brightly that the Civic could have turned off its headlights, and they'd still be able to see their way. She was scratching the back of her head in false display of modesty. "Oh, really? You mean it? Go on, go on!"

"But," Torako said, "you come up with the most stupid conclusions and motives I have ever heard."

Tomo's smile cracked like desert wind. "Wha- what? What do you mean?" she said, like a scolded child.

Torako sighed. "Tomo, who besides you thought that a farmer's goat disappeared because of a secret alien invasion? Or that a work shed burned to the ground because a low-level demon materialized inside the propane generator?"

"Hmph," Tomo said, crossing her arms and affecting a defiant look, like a mutineer facing execution. "Who's to say those things don't exist?"

"Not getting into that argument," Torako said. "But they don't have any place in a police investigation. It makes us look like nutcases. Not to mention," Torako added, to prevent Tomo from interrupting, "the problems caused by following your hunches."

"Are you talking about that lawyer?" Tomo said. "Come on, I could have sworn he was wearing a mask. His face was all rubbery and fake looking."

"I was thinking about the noodle incident-"

"That wasn't me!" Tomo shouted. "No one can prove it was me! I wasn't even there!"

Torako winced. "This car is too small to start shouting."

Torako let Tomo sulk before speaking again. "I'll admit that this prostitute theory kinda makes sense, at least compared to your previous theories. Maybe I got burned so many times by your hunches that I just stop believing them. It's like a survival instinct."

Tomo still sulked, so Torako decided to enjoy the quiet.

...

The bakery was located in a business district. This meant busy, crowded and loud during the day, but at night, when everyone left for home, a ghost town. The buildings towered like shadows, and the streetlights were too dim to expose anything lurking behind them.

They saw a light down the street, shining like a Cyclopean eye in a dark cave.

"There!" Tomo said. She attempted to point through the windshield and smudged it instead. "I bet that's it!"

Torako parked the civic on the curb, near the building. The building was a temporal oddity, a three story brownstone out of the Taisho era standing amidst all these towering behemoths of glass and steel, monuments to Japan's bubble economy of the 1980s.

Tomo pulled out her bokken the instant she hit the sidewalk.

"Not yet," Torako said. "Let's talk with them first."

"Aw, come on" Tomo said. "You're just jealous you don't have one."

"Don't need it," Torako said. "Got a gun."

"Yeah, rub it in," Tomo said, but she put away the bokken. Not for the last time, Torako wondered how she sat down with that thing stuck in her coat.

They approached the lighted building, and sure enough, it was Broodwich Bakery, written in English and katakana. Torako tapped at the name on the plate glass window and looked derisively at Tomo, as if she was a competitor who lost a spelling bee. "How's that prostitution theory coming along, genius?"

"I'll be proven right, just you wait!" Tomo said.

They entered the bakery, and were hit with the warm, sweet smell of baked grains. It was an ancient smell, the first hint that man had pushed aside the lifelong hunt and was finally putting his big brain to use. It was the smell of the beginning of civilization.

Torako flipped the open sign to 'closed' while Tomo teleported to the counter to ogle the pastries and cakes in the glass display case, which she had spied from the entrance. The tile floor was in a checker pattern, with alternating black and white squares. A small, cast iron table and its two chairs sat next to the window. Takeout seemed to be the main way this place did business.

The push door opened from behind the counter, and a sales girl walked out, wearing a frilly white apron and a nametag that read Ryoko. She greeted the two with a fresh smile, displaying a chipperness that was unusual for the late hour.

"Good evening, and welcome to our bakery. You guys just made it in time. We close in ten minutes, so what you see in the display case is twenty percent off."

"Man," Tomo said. "This smells good!"

Ryoko described the many types of bread and deserts they cook at the bakery. Tomo, of course, wanted to know what the sweetest one was.

Torako waited for Tomo to swing the conversation around to the investigation, but realized that Tomo was too far gone into smells and potential tastes to concentrate on her job. Torako propped an elbow up on the display counter and rested her head on her hand.

"Manager in?"

Ryoko maintained her business-friendly smile, although some quizzical light came from her eyes. "Well, yes, she lives upstairs. But I'm sure there's something I can help you with."

With her free hand, Torako flipped out her police badge. Tomo would have done the same, but she was pressing her face against the display glass, eyeing a cherry pie.

Ryoko's smile stumbled like a marathon runner at the finish line. "Um, is there something wrong?"

"Cops flashing a badge, asking to talk to someone," Torako said. "When does that mean something's not wrong?"

"Oh, don't pay attention to her," Tomo said, shooting straight up from her crouching position. "She's PMSing tonight." Tomo flashed her badge. "But yeah, your manager please."

"I'll go see if she can come down," Ryoko said.

"Don't worry about it, we'll follow you," Torako said. She leapt over the pay counter like Daredevil hopping across tenement roofs in Hell's Kitchen. Tomo attempted to follow suit, her foot entangling in the phone line and crashing her to the floor. The phone was jerked from the counter and slammed into her head.

"Oops, sorry," Tomo said, wincing in pain and rubbing her head with one hand, while trying to untangle the phone line from her ankle with her other hand. Ryoko looked at Tomo with some concern, although Torako didn't appear to notice that her partner had committed a pratfall.

The swing door behind the counter opened to a hallway, with two doors to the left and a flight of stairs on the right. Ryoko started to walk up the stairs, but Torako pushed open the first door in the hallway. Ryoko climbed down and followed behind, trying not to show her nervousness.

Torako entered the kitchen, which had been shut down for the night. The oven was shut off, and the table used for kneading was wiped clean. Several mixers, empty and silent, arrayed the top of a stainless steel counter. A mop bucket, with the mop sunk into the dirty water, stood guard next to the doorway.

"Seems an awkward place for a kitchen," Torako said.

"Well, this building was originally a small residential apartment, back before this area got big," Ryoko said. "This used to be a lobby, but it was converted to a kitchen about… thirty years ago, I think."

Torako followed the sales lady back up the stairs, and noticed with some irritation that Tomo wasn't behind her. Probably still untangling the mess she made.

The stairs opened up into the living quarters. Torako followed Ryoko to a closed door facing the stairs. A window was at the end of the hall overlooking the street, but the view outside was as dark as black construction paper.

Ryoko knocked on the door. "Ma'am? Some visitors are here to see you."

The door opened and an elderly woman appeared, wearing a sky blue yukata decorated with swaths of white wind flowing from back to front. "Thank you, Ryoko," she said. She looked up at Torako and smiled at her like she was a visiting grandchild. "And who might you be?"

Torako flashed her badge. "We we're hoping to ask you some questions, Ms.-"

"Ando. Would that be your partner?" She indicated direction by nodding.

Torako turned around to see Tomo standing behind her. Tomo was cradling pastries and cakes in her left arm. She was holding a slice of cherry pie in her right hand, already bit into, and was chewing with undisguised bliss. Her eyes were lidded like a sleepy infant's. "It's so good," she said, through a mouthful of pie.

Torako fumbled her ability to speak, but managed to recover. She turned back to face Ms. Ando. "She'll pay for those, I promise."

...

Ms. Ando had taken them to her dining room, where they sat down at her kotatsu. A western style cherry wood dresser was in the corner, with a creamy green vase full of yellow chrysanthemums on top. Their fallen petals layered the top of the dresser like the aftermath of a wedding. A picture of Ms. Ando in her younger years, along with her late husband, stood next to the vase.

Ms. Ando dismissed Ryoko for the night, who locked the bakery before leaving. Tomo finished her slice of pie and was now working on a blueberry muffin. Ms. Ando had brewed tea, which proved to be much more drinkable to Torako than the Hell brew served to them earlier at the hotel.

"Damn fine tea!" Tomo said, slamming her empty porcelain cup on the table. She poured more tea from the pot Ms. Ando had brought out to them, the heady astringent smell seeping across the room.

"I'm glad you like it, dear," Ms. Ando said. She turned toward Torako and said, "So, officer, what do you need to discuss?"

"Asagi Ayase," Torako said. Tomo glanced over at Torako, who was busy taking a sip of her tea.

"How are you able to see through those long bangs?" Ms. Ando said. If she knew Asagi, she certainly wasn't revealing it. Her kindly, wrinkled face hadn't changed since she first greeted them at her door.

"The hotel she's staying in received a phone call that was traced to this establishment," Torako said. _Was_ staying in, Tomo thought. Is she trying to catch Ms. Ando in a lie? Or…

"You two," Ms. Ando said, "are new here, aren't you? Filling in for the detectives that got fired, I take it?"

"That's right," Torako said. "If-"

"I see what this is," Ms. Ando said. She kept the same sweet smile, the same kindly voice. "You want what those old detectives had. You want in. And you think harassing an old lady running a bakery shop is going to do it."

Torako took a sip of her tea while Tomo chomped another bite from her muffin. Tomo looked back and forth between the two. She decided to let Torako handle the questioning, and besides, she was too busy eating anyway.

Ms. Ando leaned over the table and faced Torako. "You don't know what you're up against. Some newcomers, not even knowing how this ward is run, think they can get a little action in before being sent back to their old ward. The detectives you're filling in for, Watanabe-

"Heh heh heh," Tomo said, laughing at her own private joke.

"- and Saito knew the rules. They lost, didn't they? You two ladies are outsiders. I assure you, you'll fare far worse than they." She glanced at Tomo before leaning back in her chair and fixing her grandmotherly gaze on Torako. "This is what you will do. You will leave. You will not come back. You will not mention Asagi Ayase to anyone." She looked at Tomo. "And you, dear, will pay full price for those goods."

"What?" Tomo said, through a mouth full of blueberry muffin, globs of it falling from her mouth. "The sales lady said they were fifty percent off!"

"No, she said they were twenty percent off," Ms. Ando said, smiling.

While Tomo argued the price with Ms. Ando, Torako pulled the police issue camera out of her military jacket. She turned it on and studied at the view screen while cycling through the pictures she took at the crime scene, before stopping on one; the one. She studied it longer than she wanted to before putting the camera on Ms. Ando's table.

Ms. Ando lifted an eyebrow, the only change in expression since she let the two into her apartment. "What's this, some blurry shot made on a street corner? You think this will matter?" Ms. Ando picked up the camera.

The transformation was instantaneous. The smile on her face was knocked cold by a gasp of horror. Her gentle eyes widened into shock before darkening into pools of sorrow.

Ms. Ando put the camera back on the table, and Torako quickly pocketed it. Ms. Ando leaned her now sagging face into her hands. She stayed like that for several seconds before removing them and speaking again.

"How did this happen?"

"We don't know," Torako said, quietly. "That's what we're trying to find out. If there's anything you can tell us, please do it. We need to know."

"Can you- can you give me a moment," Ms. Ando said. Her eyes were misting like condensation on glass.

...

Tomo and Torako were in Ms. Ando's living room at the end of the hall. The light was on, and Torako was sitting on the floor, leaning against a wall, one arm propped on her knee. She kept trying to form some thought, anything, but nothing was coming.

Tomo sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the television. She was flipping through channels at an obnoxious pace before settling on a late night variety show.

"Look at that idiot," Tomo snorted, pointing at the screen. "A vibrating toilet seat? Who thought that was a good idea?"

Torako stood up. "Ten minutes is long enough," she said. "Let's go."

They knocked on Ms. Ando's bedroom door, and she exited, ready to continue questioning. They went back to the kotatsu, where Tomo poured herself some more tea.

After sitting down, Torako said, "Were you the one that made the call to her hotel room?"

"Yes, I was the one that called her," Ms. Ando said, the edges of her voice chiseled by shock and grief. "I tried her cell phone, but she didn't answer. I knew where she was staying, so I tried calling her there. She never answered."

"There was a phone call made two minutes later to the front desk," Torako said. "We traced the number to a payphone in Tokyo station."

Ms. Ando shook her head. "I don't know anything about that."

Torako continued. "Why was she staying there?"

"I don't know," Ms. Ando said. "I don't work for her."

"You don't work for her," Torako repeated. She absentmindedly rotated the teacup with her hand. The bottom of the cup scraped against the kotatsu while she did this. "You throw smoke in our eyes the instant we mention her. You know her cell phone number. You even knew what hotel she was staying at, and her room number. You start threatening us, telling us to leave her alone. And you say you don't work for her."

Ms. Ando shook her head throughout Torako's accusations, as if she had Parkinson's disease. "She's like a daughter to me," she said. "She owns this building. I don't make enough money to keep this business running, but she bought it and lets me stay here rent-free. I would have been forced out years ago if it wasn't for her. Can you blame me for wanting to protect her?"

"No," Torako said. "Still leaves some unanswered questions, though. Why would she tell you where she's going if you didn't work for her? Did she always do that?"

"It's something I wanted her to do, for me," Ms. Ando said. "To check up on her and make sure she's okay. It had nothing to do with her business."

Now that its attention was free from eating, Tomo's mouth burst like an overinflated tire. "Is she a prostitute? Is this place a front for criminal activities? Where's the whorehouse?"

Ms. Ando looked at Tomo with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "You mean you don't know what she does? Neither of you?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Torako said.

"She runs gambling dens," Ms. Ando said. Torako gave Tomo a triumphant look, slight and subtle.

"She owns twelve dens, I think, all in this ward. Some of them are what you'd call for the lower class player, slot machines and what have you. She has some for high rollers, craps tables, roulette tables, Blackjack, that sort of thing. She sponsors some underground Poker tournaments with high-stake betting. She's a killer mah jong player herself."

Ms. Ando looked at Tomo. "And no, young lady, this place isn't a front. It's a legitimate bakery, as it has been for the past forty years. Asagi kept me in business just because she liked me." Ms. Ando let out a sigh. "I suppose that will be changing now. Whatever lackey takes over won't have any interest in helping out an old woman."

"Well, do you know where we can find some information about her activities? Like locations of the dens," Tomo said.

Ms. Ando stood up. "Follow me. I'll take you to her office. It's downstairs."

Torako and Tomo glanced at each other before standing up. Tomo's look said everything: jackpot! Tomo quickly drank the rest of her tea. She wiped crumbs off her lap before following the two downstairs.

...

Asagi's office was located on the first floor, next to the kitchen. It was a small office, with a wooden laminate desk, a black leather executive chair, and one leather visitor chair in front of the desk.

Ms. Ando had tapped the computer on the desk and was about to say something, but stopped as she watched Torako approach the wall displaying pictures. Tomo sprawled in the visitor's chair. She didn't seem to be aware of what was going on. The sugar from the pastries, cake, and pie she ate was having its revenge on her. They would soon know defeat, because Tomo's unnatural energy levels couldn't be affected by something as mundane as a sugar crash.

Torako studied the pictures on the wall. Most were of people she had never seen before. There were two pictures of Asagi's sisters, but none of her parents.

A picture of Torako and Asagi in their first year of college was in the middle of the display. The two were posing in front of Torako's first car, a hand-me-down from her parents. Asagi was wearing a knowing smile and a peace sign, while Torako looked tough behind her newly lighted cigarette and her black leather jacket.

I can't see this right now, Torako thought. She quickly moved away.

"That is you," Ms. Ando said. "I thought I recognized you. Those same long bangs. You and Asagi must have been good friends."

"Wow," Tomo said. She had managed to teleport herself from the chair to the picture without anyone noticing, a classic technique Tomo perfected over the years, causing dismay to everyone Tomo inflicted it upon.

Tomo looked at Torako, poked the picture with her finger, smearing it, and grinned like an escaped mental patient. "I never thought you'd stand still long enough for someone to take your picture! It's like you don't even care that they took it."

"Yeah," Torako said. "You'd think I was traumatized by someone constantly sticking a camera in my face after pulling a prank on me."

"No one I know!" Tomo said. She flashed a cute and manic smile while blasting a thumbs up. Torako ignored her and said to Ms. Ando, "That must be Asagi's computer. We'll have to confiscate it."

...

Torako was carrying the PC to the car when Tomo decided to harass her with questions.

"Why aren't we calling in the field analysts? They're the ones who are supposed to do all this. That whole building needs to be searched, and besides, Ando needs to be arrested and taken in as an accomplice. I don't trust her kind old lady act." Tomo had convinced herself that the food she took was actually supposed to be fifty percent off the full price, and Ms. Ando was ripping her off by only taking off twenty percent. So what if the sales lady said...

"We're taking this back to Chiyoda," Torako said, interrupting Tomo's poorly constructed anger. "Our people are going to look at it. There's no way Asagi could run that many gambling dens here without some kind of kickback to the cops, or have her 'office' out in the open like that. I'd hate for this to get mysteriously disappeared. I don't trust Ms. Ando either. I wouldn't be surprised if the whole ward is in on it." Tomo opened the rear door for Torako to shove in the computer.

"Ah, a conspiracy!" Tomo studied Torako. Tomo held her chin like she was posing for a cheaply made glamour shot. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were swinging around to my way of thinking."

Torako shut the rear door and stretched her back. "Too much wrong here," Torako said when she finished stretching. "Those two detectives apparently wanted too much, or tried to blackmail her, and got busted for it. No telling how many policeman here are in on it. We need to be careful."

Tomo's smug face changed into a thoughtful, worried look. "You know, it was Ueno police we left guarding the hotel. They took all of…" Tomo trailed off, letting the thought complete itself in Torako's head.

"Yeah," Torako said. "Let's not start getting paranoid here."

Tomo pointed to the computer in the back seat. "Too late for that," she said.

Torako answered by lighting a cigarette.


	5. Chapter 5

The PC confiscated from Asagi's office was dropped off at their district crime lab, located in the same building as the district headquarters. The data recovery specialist was out for the night, so the night officer filled out the paperwork and locked the computer in the holding vault.

Asagi's murder was whittling Torako's stony cool to dust, and even Tomo could tell it was time for her to go home and deal with it privately. They were silent while Torako, in her personal vehicle (a recent model Fiat Panda) drove Tomo back to her apartment. Since it was her personal vehicle and she didn't have to follow police protocol, Torako spammed Tomo with her Anglophilia by playing Buzzcocks and The Damned on her MP3 player, attached to the car's sound system. For once, Tomo didn't complain about Torako's musical preferences (usually by suggesting that it was unpatriotic, which never worked on Torako), nor do battle by unplugging Torako's MP3 player and attaching her own.

Tomo arrived at her apartment shortly after midnight. She stepped outside and was about to close the car door when Torako, without looking at her, mumbled, "I'm not coming in tomorrow." Torako pulled out her notebook and police camera, and placed them in the passenger seat.

"Good night," Tomo said, grabbing Torako's notebook and camera. She stuffed them in her trench coat, shut the car door, and trotted upstairs to her apartment, while the little Fiat sped away.

She unlocked her door and left it open. She banged her fists on Osaka's door, making a sound like a kettledrum roll, before diving into her own apartment, locking the door behind her.

In the bedroom, she stripped down to her boxers and t-shirt, carefully hung up her trench coat, but left her clothes on the bedroom floor. She stood over the bed containing her sleeping husband.

"Representing Japan, the champion diver and five time gold medalist, Tomo Takino!" she said, and jumped into the bed. Her hands slapped down hard on Rico, who didn't even grunt or budge. "A gold medal! Yay!" Tomo made the appropriate sounds of a cheering audience before scooting next to Rico, who was lying on his side and facing the wall. She put one arm around him.

"Mmm… Kazumi," he said.

"What?" Tomo said, sitting up.

Rico let out a laugh smothered by sleepiness. "You're so easy," he said.

Tomo punched him in the arm before settling back into her previous position. "Torako had a bad night," she said.

"Tell me about it tomorrow, okay?"

"It's already tomorrow," Tomo said, but Rico responded by snoring. Tomo imaged Torako driving to her home, dark and empty, entering it, perhaps flicking on a light and turning down the thermostat, before getting ready to bed. Tomo opened her heavy eyelids, checking to make sure her husband was still next to her, before settling down to sleep.

Her sleep didn't last long, as both she and Rico were awakened by Burzum exploding from Osaka's stereo system. Rico slowly turned over to face Tomo while Varg Vikernes vocally assaulted the couple with the church-burning power of his hate.

"Did you wake up Osaka again?" Rico said.

Tomo groaned, snatched the phone sitting on her nightstand, and dialed Osaka's number. Osaka answered after four rings, a sliver of time to all but Tomo, who felt as if she was waiting for the Big Crunch.

"Telephone," Osaka said. Moaning synths, screeching guitars, and thudding drums swirled around Osaka's sleepy-headed voice like ancestral spirits protecting their sacred burial ground.

"Osaka? Hit that big red button on the stereo, okay?"

"What's all that noise? I guess I'm at the dentist," Osaka drawled.

"The big red button that's lit up, can you see it? Press it!"

"Hee hee, he's singin' about bananas," Osaka said. Tomo heard a long series of bumps and bangs, as patience testing as a high school cheerleader talking about her weekend. Mercifully, the music finally stopped.

"I love bananas, Tomo."

"Great, good night," Tomo said.

"Good night, I love you Tomo," Osaka said.

"…iloveyoutoobye," Tomo said, bashing the off button with her finger. She tossed the phone at the nightstand. It missed and bounced on the floor, but there was no way Tomo was going to look for it now. She thudded her head against her pillow like Michael Jordan making a slam dunk.

Rico said, "You love Os-"

"Not a word!"

...

Tomo was grumpy and irritable when she woke up for good that day, an understandable side effect of her sleep being interrupted by Norwegian black metal, which also presented the annoying mystery of how Osaka ever got into that stuff in the first place. She stepped on the phone when she got out of bed, causing the antennae to stab her in the foot. After breakfast, Rico made her mood worse by defending Osaka, painting a coat of anger on Tomo's irritation.

"Hey, my argument is that Osaka, when she's sleep deprived, is a reflex machine." He was facing Tomo, who was sulking on the couch, her arms crossed, her face pointedly turned away from her husband. Rico was on his fourth attempt at tying a tie, something he couldn't do without looking in a mirror. "She's like a computer program," he said. "You put in your data and it can only be run one way. It wasn't really her fault, see, because she didn't know what she was doing."

"Oh yeah?" Tomo said. "Well my argument is that your argument is stupid." Tomo hopped up from the couch and grabbed the two strands of his tie, tying it for him with quick, slashing strokes. "You're supposed to stand up for your wife, anyway."

"I'm not against you," Rico said.

"You're defending Osaka because you're attracted to her."

"Oh my god!" Rico said, raising his hands like a soldier at the Maginot Line. "Not this crap ACK!"

Tomo finished tying his tie. Rico stuck a finger in the knot to loosen it so his windpipe could once again become a productive citizen of the respiratory system.

"Tomo," he wheezed, "she's not even my type."

"Oh, what is your type? Huh?" Tomo crossed her arms and affected a pouty, petulant look, as if her lips were used to juice lemons.

"I like them short, cute, and crazy," Rico said. "You know that."

"Ew, you like the chief? He's old!"

Rico rolled his eyes. He bent his head down to kiss Tomo, but she moved her head out of the way.

"Fine, be that way," Rico said. "Later."

After Rico had left the apartment, Tomo ran outside to see him at the bottom of the stairs. "You won't get a morning kiss if you don't apologize!"

Rico looked up at her. "Oh, I'll get a kiss, just not from you!"

"The chief's not going to kiss you," Tomo shouted, as Rico ran down the sidewalk toward the train station.

What a stupid argument, Tomo thought as she re-entered her apartment. Can't he see he's being stupid?

...

What a stupid argument, Rico thought as he sat on the train. Can't she see she's being stupid?

Rico's position (a construction supervisor) required physical labor, but he had to wear a tie that day due to a company meeting. The sidelong glances from his fellow passengers made his nervousness even worse. He looked up at the mirror above the train windows to see if he had combed his hair properly, but was stunned to see what Lovecraft would describe as a horror of non-Euclidean proportions growing out of his neck.

Dammit Tomo, he thought, as he untied his tie. He tied it again, this time getting it right.

...

The weather continued its bi-polar behavior by being angry during the day before calming down at night, a game that would be played until the end of the month, when autumn's bite would put an end to summer's fading warmth. Tomo, entering the crime lab in the district headquarters from which she worked, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. This was reasonable dress for the weather (except for her trench coat), albeit unprofessional for a police station headquarters. However, this was a battle chief Akiyama has long since resigned himself to losing.

"Man, it's hot," Tomo said to the lab coat clad Megane. "I'm checking up on that computer me and Torako dropped off yesterday. What's the status?"

"J-just one moment," Megane said. He took a clipboard that was hanging on a nail and started flipping through the pages. "He started on it t-two hours ago. E.T.A. is seven more hours."

Tomo blinked. "Seven hours? That long?"

Megane shrugged. "That w-what he says. Must be a lot of d-deleted files-"

"Yeah, yeah, that's okay," Tomo said, patting Megane's shoulder with more force than was required. "I'll check back later." She flashed the peace sign and exited the lab, heading toward her side of the building.

...

Tomo was staring at her desk, demonstrating shock by holding her arms in front of her like a failed kata from a drunken martial artist.

"What's this stuff on my desk? Kazumi, did you do this?"

Kazumi, at the end of the room, kept her head behind her computer. She said nothing.

Oh yeah, Tomo thought, recognizing the empty potato chip bag and the styrofoam peanuts. That's from yesterday.

She took off her trench coat and draped it over her chair, sat down, and switched on her computer. She swung her arm in a wide sweeping motion to knock the bag and styrofoam peanuts off of her desk. This enterprise ended in failure as her mug full of pencils and pens, her stapler, a scotch tape dispenser stolen from Torako, a box of paper clips, a stack of official documents, and scissors stolen from Kazumi clattered onto the floor. Her items travelled over the aisle like gold prospectors racing to California.

"Aww man," Tomo said. "Hey Kazumi, come clean all this up. It's your fault, you know."

Kazumi was doing an adequate job of ignoring Tomo. The rest of the office staff was transfixed by the grinning Tomo's attempt to poke the dragon with a stick.

"Man, she's starting early today," one of her co-workers whispered to a nodding accomplice.

Tomo hunted through her pocket and pulled out some coins. She grabbed one and held it in the air. "Hey Kazumi," she said, loudly, "I really shouldn't be doing this but I'll give you a 100 yen piece if you clean this up. Since you're supposed to be cleaning it up for free anyway, you can take this as a token of how nice I am."

Kazumi stood up from her desk and walked toward Tomo, her long silver hair swaying with each step, not once making eye contact. She bent down in the aisle, picked up the scissors that Tomo had stolen from her, and walked back to her desk. She sat down, put the scissors in her desk, and hunched back over her monitor.

"Thief!" Tomo said. "Get your own! Now come back and clean up the rest of this. And just for that, you only get a 25 yen piece." Tomo pocketed her 100 yen piece and pulled out a ten yen piece and waved it in the air. "She's too dumb to know the difference," Tomo whispered, loudly.

Chief Akiyama, from his private office directly behind Tomo, opened his door. "Takino," he said, "stop showing what a broke cheapskate you are and clean up your own mess. And in case you don't understand, that's an order." He slammed the door.

Tomo stuck the coin back in her pocket and grumbled to herself as she kneeled on the aisle. She started picking up pens and pencils, some of which had rolled under other desks.

Her cell phone rang to the chorus of an Ayumi Hamasaki song, signaling that Rico was calling her. She flipped it opened and answered with a cheery "Hey!"

"You're the one attracted to Osaka because you told her you love h-"

"Gah!" Tomo shouted, slamming the phone shut.

...

After cleaning up her mess and finishing her report of last night's activities, Tomo grabbed Torako's police camera and plugged it into her computer. She cycled through each picture, noticing that none was taken after she smashed the TV. Tomo studied the pictures for any clue she may have missed, but found nothing. She uploaded the pictures to her computer and emailed them to the crime lab after typing in the appropriate e-form. She unhooked the camera and placed it on Torako's desk.

Tomo's phone buzzed, and she flipped it out. It was a terse message from Torako, saying she was attending Asagi's memorial at the Ayase residence. That was quick, Tomo thought. Then again, Asagi was a criminal who died in mysterious circumstances, so the family is probably hurrying along the memorial to save face. This was normal for families of suicide victims, too.

Tomo grabbed Torako's notebook and flipped through it until she found the number she needed; the Ueno district headquarters in the Taito ward, the ones handling the actual crime scene. After several negotiations with nasal sounding secretaries, each more obnoxiously oblivious than the last, Tomo was transferred to the crime scene specialist, a woman with such a severe case of smoker's voice that it sounded like a record player playing sandpaper.

"Ueno district crime lab, Dr. Sakamoto speaking."

"No way," Tomo said, stunned into discourtesy by the lab manager's voice.

"Hello?" Dr. Sakamoto said.

"Uh… This is inspector Tomo Takino of Chiyoda. We're in charge of the investigation of Asagi Ayase's murder."

There was a pause. "And?" the manager said.

"Well, you guys are handling the lab work. What are your findings, ma'am?"

"Doctor," she said. "One moment."

Tomo covered the mouthpiece and snickered. After a minute of waiting, Dr. Sakamoto returned.

"The blood found on the scene was entirely the murder victim's," she said. "Fingerprint analysis of the crime scene is inconclusive. There are no intact prints. No material outside of the victim's belongings was found."

How would you know what was hers or not, Tomo thought. "What about the body?"

Dr. Sakamoto repeated what Tomo had ascertained about Asagi's injuries, although with a lot more technical and medical jargon. She ended by saying that the Ayase family had claimed the body that morning.

"Thanks Dr. Smoka- uh, Dr. Sakamoto," Tomo said.

"Hold on detective," Dr. Sakamoto said. "Did you find any additional evidence at the crime scene?"

"Only what you guys already have. Why, is there something I need to be looking for?"

"You tell me, you're the detective," Dr. Sakamoto said, and hung up.

What was that about, Tomo thought as she hung up her phone. She waited for the sharp, eye-widening prick of paranoia… nope, nothing coming. It's just Torako this time, Tomo thought. She stretched and got ready for the next order of business, which was…

…the mysterious payphone at Tokyo Station.

She had flashed her badge at the information center in Tokyo Station, allowing her into the bowels of the security room, a massive basement devoted to surveillance of the station. Several security guards faced a barrage of images from the wall of monitors, showing the crowds going in and out from the trains, nonstop.

Tomo explained the situation to the head security technician and gave him the number that called the hotel last night. He entered it into the Tokyo Station phone grid database, pulling up the physical location of the phone.

The technician whistled. "That's in front of the central ticket gate." They walked to the security area where he commandeered a monitor. He cycled through the security cameras until he got to the one viewing the payphones in front of the central ticket gate. He checked the phone-grid printout, and pointed at the payphone on the far left of the grouping. "That's the one," he said.

Tomo flipped open Torako's notepad. "I need footage from yesterday, start it at around 18:10."

The technician typed in the information. The computer took thirty seconds to pull up the footage before playing it on the monitor. It showed hundreds of people milling around at the ticket gate, purchasing tickets, waiting for partners, cycling through their MP3 players, or talking on their cell phones. Two minutes later, a woman wearing a black wool dress, a wide brimmed straw sunhat, a surgical mask, and sunglasses walked up to the phone in question. She either had short hair, or had stuffed it underneath her hat.

"Yes!" Tomo said, pumping her fist in the air. "I am the master!" The technician let out a nervous laugh.

The girl deposited a coin, punched her numbers, and held the phone up to her face. The time on the footage said 18:15, the time recorded by the hotel when they received the anonymous call. After twelve seconds, she hung up and left.

"Yeah, that's not suspicious," Tomo said. I bet that's the sales girl at the bakery, she thought. What's her name? Ryoko.

"What direction is the platform?"

"To the east of the phones," the technician said.

"Uh… heh heh…" Tomo scratched the back of her head. "Could you point which way is east? On this footage?"

The technician glanced at Tomo and pointed to the right of the monitor.

"Okay, so she came from the other direction. I bet she came from outside, walked all the way over there, made the call, and left. Can you trace her steps?"

"Yes ma'am," the technician said. "But it will take at least an hour to find all the footage."

"That's fine," Tomo said. "So, do you know where a gal can get some lunch? Like, maybe a meatball sub?"

...

Three hours later, Tomo was back at her police headquarters. Only two minutes of footage spliced together showed the masked suspect enter Tokyo station, walk to a payphone, make the call, and leave the way she came. The suspect did not look around, did not dawdle, and did not get distracted. She kept her head down the entire time. It would be difficult to get a clear shot.

Tomo emailed the footage to the lab and requested that they print the best picture they could find of the suspect, and distribute it to the police stations in Tokyo as an APB. The heading would be 'unknown suspect wanted in a murder case.' Tomo seriously doubted that she could be identified.

She thought about oiling her bokken on Kazumi's desk while Kazumi was still sitting there when Torako entered the office. She was wearing black fighter pilot Ray-Bans, barely covering the practiced indifference on her face. It was 1610 hours, almost time to leave.

"Hey Torako," Tomo said. "You might as well have stayed home. I got everything handled." She grinned like an imp about to cause mischief toward a bumbling knight.

"That's what I was afraid of," Torako said as she sat down.

"Huh, what was that? A joke," Tomo said. She leaned back in her chair with her hands clasped behind her head. "An attempt at one, anyway. Maybe you should leave the witty repartee to me. After all, I was the one that discovered Ms. Ayase was a prostitute." Tomo had a brief flash of worry that she had overstepped some boundaries again, but decided she didn't care. She would not be afraid of her partner. Torako needed to lighten up.

"She ran gambling dens," Torako said. If she was upset, she hid it well behind her glasses.

Tomo made a wide shrug, like a seagull spreading its wings. "Gambler, prostitute, same thing. I'm morally right."

Torako typed some things at her computer before pushing her chair over to face Tomo, putting her hands in her lap. "What did you do today," she said.

Tomo described, in great detail and with some exaggeration, what she did that day. Torako had to get her to skip over how unhelpful Kazumi was about cleaning up the mess in the aisle, and had to ask her to not describe the meatball sub in such minute detail. Eventually, Tomo got to the point and finished her narrative.

Torako grabbed the surveillance footage from the lab server and watched it on her monitor. "This could be Ryoko," Torako said. "Let's go get her and Ms. Ando."

"We should've got them last night," Tomo said, standing up. "You were fooled by that kind old grandmother act, weren't you?"

"Wasn't thinking straight," Torako said, as they exited the office.

...

Torako was outside by the Civic, arms folded, and leaning her back against the driver-side door. The evening breeze was blowing through the setting sun, and Tomo's glasses reflected the sun's glare like a pinpoint laser. She was waiting for Tomo to finish her phone call to her husband, explaining that she was going to put in another late night. Tomo eventually appeared, bouncing across the parking lot like a mechanized pogo stick. She jumped into the car.

After Torako pulled out of the parking lot, Tomo asked, "How was the wedding?"

"The memorial," Torako said. After a pause, "It was there."

"Heh, that bad, huh?"

"It was only awkward," Torako said. "I hadn't seen her family or friends in a long while. The circumstances weren't the best, of course. A memorial service never is."

"What, they gave you the cold shoulder?"

Torako stopped at a red light. "Her youngest sister asked me what it was like to kill people. I told her it felt pretty good."

Tomo froze like an introvert at a public recital. After five seconds had passed with no reaction from Tomo (a record), Torako let a phantom smile haunt her lips.

"Of course it doesn't feel good," Torako said. "I'm not blood simple."

Tomo exhaled, signaling relief. "Man, I was going to say," she said. "I thought you had finally snapped. I can't believe you told her that, though."

"People ask you that so they can feel morally superior," Torako said. "They want to rattle you, force you to make excuses while they feel safe and smug. I don't play that game. I left after that."

...

The business district was hemorrhaging businessmen in all directions. Buses, cars, and pedestrians choked Tomo and Torako's path to the bakery, their stomachs sinking when they saw that the bakery was completely dark.

Torako pulled up on the sidewalk in front of the bakery, cutting off the path of several pedestrians. One middle aged businessman decided this was a personal insult, as rank as rotting fish, and decided to act.

"Hey! Why don't you learn how to drive, woman!"

Without looking at the loudmouth stiff, Torako flipped out her badge. "Anything else you'd like to add?"

The businessman balked. "No ma-, officer."

"On your way then," Torako said.

"Yeah!" Tomo shouted, shaking her fist at his quickly retreating back. "Stay off the sidewalk, that's for driving!"

The bakery was empty and dark. They peered inside, and except for the glass display counter, nothing remained from last night: no table, no chairs, no cash register, no phone, nothing.

Torako tried to open the door, but it was locked. Tomo pulled out her lock-picking kit and got to work. Torako turned around to face the sidewalk, peopled with busybodies. After lighting a cigarette, Torako said nothing but displayed her badge, which said everything. The rubberneckers immediately went on their way.

Tomo smelled the cigarette smoke. "So, starting that stuff up again, eh?"

"Never quit," Torako said, after finishing a drag. "Just took a break."

Tomo paused in her work to flash a smirk at Torako, her chin propped on her gun-shaped hand. "Need to talk to Osaka again?"

"No," Torako said.

...

Tomo introduced Torako to Osaka shortly after they were assigned as partners, nine months ago. Torako lit a cigarette and took a drag while Osaka stared at her in blank wonder. Torako figured a lecture about the danger of smoking was in the making, but Osaka just started laughing and pointing at her.

"What?" Torako said. She started the motions of putting the cigarette back into her mouth.

"When you smoke, you pucker up your mouth and it looks like an old man's sphincter." Osaka started laughing again, holding her sides.

Osaka's words presented Torako with such an overpowering image that the cigarette froze in midair, unable to complete its journey to her lips. She dropped it and ground it out.

That night, she took out a cigarette, but couldn't light it. The image had implanted itself in her head. Torako realized that Osaka had cured her smoking, much to her regret. Why did she have to say old man?

Torako liked smoking. It was her preferred vice, her trademark. It made her look cool, and made her feel like a badass. It played well with her introverted nature, because it made people avoid her.

Sure, there were the lecturers, some well-meaning, but most just wanted to display their moral superiority. The studies meant nothing to her, anyway. She lucked out on the genetic lottery, as each check-up came back negative for signs of cancer and emphysema. Even her lungs were as pink as the second before she took her first puff, placing her in that 0.5 percentile of smokers with undamaged lungs. Sure, it made her clothes smell, and it could yellow her teeth and fingernails if she wasn't careful, but she rarely smoked more than four sticks a day for it to make that much of a difference. Yet, even if her lungs were as black as Caligula's conscience, even if she was confined to a wheelchair like Captain Pike and could only communicate with a blinking light, and even if the act of breathing was as tedious and painful as a political argument, she'd still smoke to her dying day.

That dopey-looking, unassuming Osaka had to come along and ruin it with one well-placed mental bombardment. If Torako didn't know any better, she'd swear Osaka was a witch that placed a curse on her.

...

She wasn't going to let her get the chance to do it again.

Tomo and Torako entered the bakery. Tomo flipped the light switch, but no lights came on. The light from the waning sun was enough to show them that there was nothing left.

Torako walked outside to the car and popped the trunk. She grabbed two flashlights to explore the rest of the building. She tossed one to Tomo, took off her sunglasses, and hopped behind the counter.

She had pushed open the swinging door and was walking into the dark hallway, flashlight in hand, when she heard breaking glass. She rushed back to the entrance, and saw Tomo, bokken in the final form of a killing stroke, standing over the broken glass of the display case.

"What?" Tomo said. "I felt like it."

"Hmm," Torako said. They explored the rest of the building.

They found nothing. Even the carpet in Asagi's office was removed. Tomo tried knocking walls and corners looking for dead spots, but there would be no secret hiding places here.

They stood in the entrance, the outside blanketed with red from the setting sun. Torako stood at the window, facing the Civic but not looking at anything. Tomo trounced on the broken glass on the floor, trying to break each shard into its smallest possible piece.

"Well," Tomo said, "what do you say happened?"

"Ueno cops came and cleared it out," Torako said. "Trying to find anything that would incriminate them. I wish we could have got our field analysts to grab this stuff last night, but the chief would never allow it. He wouldn't want to step on anyone's toes."

"Ah, more conspiracies!" Tomo jumped on a large piece of glass, breaking it into several pieces. "Why cops and not whatever lackey took over Ms. Ayase's business?"

"We're going to work long and hard tonight," Torako said, answering the question in her heart instead of the one from Tomo's lips. Her eyes focused on something much farther away than the car in front of her. "We're going to find out who owns this building, and we're going to find out what happened to Ms. Ando. We're going to find out where Ryoko lives. We're going to get the data from Asagi's computer, and we are going to bust us some gambling dens."

Torako walked outside without announcement. Tomo followed, eyeing Torako like a doctor peering into a microscope that contained a new disease. There's a reason why investigators aren't allowed to work on cases concerning close relatives or friends. They'd get too personally involved, and lose whatever objectivity they had. Torako was nothing but objectivity; bored, indifferent efficiency that was as smooth and calm as a pebble skipping over a pond.

This Torako, though, was jagged at the edges, and it was sawing at Tomo's wellbeing.

The Civic hit the streets when Tomo noticed the police radio repeating a query for their location. She grabbed the mic and rattled off their status.

"Chief Akiyama needs the two of you in his office immediately," dispatch said. "This is A-level priority."

Tomo rogered that and hung up the mic. Torako spared a quick glance at Tomo before returning it to the road. Something import enough that it couldn't be repeated over the radio… interesting.

They sped towards their office.

...

Chief Akiyama's office had wood paneling, a wood floor with a large rug, and an oak desk that was around before Tokyo Tower was built. He wore a suit to work every day, hanging his fedora and jacket on the hat rack located next to the entrance of his office. He was probably the only policeman in Japan who could get away with having a bottle of scotch in his desk.

He joined the force after high school because he wanted to be hard-boiled like his childhood heroes, the Sam Spades and Philip Marlowes of noir. Sure, they were private eyes, but Akiyama didn't let that trivial detail derail him. If now asked why he joined, he'd shrug and mention something about being for the good of Japan.

Tomo and Torako sat in his office, the door closed, while the chief held a phone to his head. He muttered one-syllable confirmations to whoever was chewing his ear out. He had an ancient phonograph system against the wall, as large as a table, softly playing John Coltrane's _Giant Steps_.

Torako respected the jazz legends, knowing them to be musical innovators and trailblazers, despite it being a genre she couldn't get into. To Tomo, who grew up on the processed sounds of bubblegum J-pop, jazz was nonexistent, and regulated to background noise.

The chief hung up the phone without saying bye. He turned to face Torako, arms propped on the armrests and sitting as still as a forest stream at midnight, and Tomo, bouncing around to a private song playing in her head.

"The Taito ward office has assigned new detectives to Ueno, so you two are no longer needed," the chief said.

"That was fast," Tomo said.

"The both of you are taken off of the Ayase murder case."

"Who has it now?" Torako said.

The chief kept silent while he eyed the two detectives, tapping his fingers on the desk. He then said, "No one."

"Eh? It's been solved already?" Tomo said.

"No Tomo, it's been sealed."

"Sealed? Internal affairs sealed?" Tomo looked at Torako and back at the chief. Torako showed no reaction.

"National Public Safety Commission. Tomo," he said, pointing at her and her gaping mouth, "Not a word. None of your cockamamie theories."

"Chief, I wasn't going-"

"Hush. I can smell the smoke coming from your little brain. You guys are off the case. All of the evidence has been collected and sealed. So, forget about it." The chief let out a sigh that had the effect of making its listeners feel guilty. "That was the Ueno district superintendent I was talking to. He didn't care much for that computer coming here instead of to his lab. Makes us look bad. But anyway, that's that. You guys take off for the night. See you tomorrow."

The chief started shuffling papers as a sign that the conversation was over. Tomo jumped from her seat while Torako lifted herself from hers.

"Oh yeah," the chief said, and the two stopped and turned around. "Don't forget Hasegawa's hearing tomorrow morning. Be at the Chiyoda Civil office at 11:00 sharp." The chief started shuffling papers again.

"Who's Hasegawa?" Tomo asked. The chief continued his display of disinterest by shuffling papers and not looking up from his desk, but his lips tightened like a pants press, and almost as much steam poured from his ears.

"The surviving kidnapper," Torako said.

"Oh, you mean Baldy," Tomo said. They exited the office door when Torako turned around and asked the chief, "What's our assignment now?"

The chief gave Torako his attention like a merciful king deigning to speak to his serfs. "Go to bed, come back tomorrow. Good night, Torako."

...

"It's a conspiracy!" Tomo said.

They were in Torako's Fiat, headed toward Tomo's apartment. Torako had turned the music down just enough to listen to Tomo's flights of fancy.

"It's not only internal affairs, it's the NPSC! This goes way up to the top! They're protecting important people!" Tomo slammed her fist into her hand. "I know who did it! That politician guy with two last names!"

"…Oda Otomo?"

"Yeah! He's in charge of the whole thing, I bet. He took over Ms. Ayase's whore houses."

"Gambling dens," Torako said. "And why would he be involved? He doesn't even represent Taito."

Tomo looked at Torako as if she was an unreasoning child. "Come on Torako, he has two last names! Anyone with two last names has to be up to no good."

"Stupid," Torako said.

"Yeah, I know," Tomo said, smiling and rubbing the back of her head. "I was only kidding. Well, it's out of our hands now. I wonder what the chief is going to have us working on tomorrow."

Torako remained silent. She was working on yesterday.


	6. Chapter 6

Kazumi Kondo, silver hair flowing behind her like a sail buffeted by wind, ran down the hall to the conference room, where she saw Torako through the conference room window. Kazumi grabbed the locked doorknob, rattled it, and waited for Torako to unlock it and let her in.

The lock clicked, and Kazumi strode through the door. "Torako, the chief-", Kazumi began, but was distracted when she saw Tomo, bent over with her arms wrapped around her stomach, coughing and wheezing.

Kazumi shook her head and faced Torako, who appeared unaware - or maybe unconcerned - that her partner was hacking her lungs out. "Another convenience store has been vandalized," Kazumi said, doing her best to ignore Tomo's coughing, now taking on a forced, theatrical quality. "The first responders say the witness testimony and surveillance footage are similar to the previous three crime scenes. The chief wants you two out there."

"In broad daylight," Torako said. She turned around and grabbed an unmarked manila folder out of the seat of a chair. "Brave and stupid. We'll get right on it." Kazumi nodded, and left the conference room, sparing a derisive glance toward Tomo.

Torako stuck her free hand in Tomo's hair and rubbed her head. "Turn out the lights when you get ready to meet me at the car, pervo."

Tomo looked up, red-faced. "Kill… you," she said.

...

Torako successfully navigated the minefield of destroyed snacks, cracked candy, broken bottles, and spilled liquid to reach her goal; a booth seat at the far end of the convenience store. Tomo did well by not stepping on the broken glass or the puddles of cola, energy drinks, and dairy products (including spilled chocolate milk, a tragedy Tomo believed could never be balanced by mere corporal punishment), but the snack chips on the floor suffered further indignity through the unthinking soles of Tomo's shoes.

The few people that walked past outside craned their necks to see the commotion. A patrol car with flashing lights parked next to Torako's maroon Civic, and two uniformed officers stood guard at the store's entrance, ready to shoo away any overly inquisitive busybodies.

Torako had already taken pictures and interviewed two witnesses (a customer and the manager). The manager was running the register that day because his help was sick.

The customer toughed it out and gave her statement, receiving the award of going home. The manager answered Torako's questions with a nasal sharpness that sounded like the hungry chirps of a newborn bird. Charitable people would call his word usage inventive, and his sentence structure had all the elegance and beauty of a shotgun blast. Torako suspected that his DNA cried itself to sleep every night.

Tomo surveyed the vandalized innards of the convenience store in-between sips of a bottle of juice. "Wow, these really are vandals," Tomo said, gesturing at the crumpled magazines tossed on the floor, pages plucked out and strewn around the magazine rack like petals from a flower full of loves-me-nots. "I said that so you'd appreciate my knowledge of Roman Empire trivia," she said, smiling at the store's manager.

The manager, hands in his pockets and burst capillaries on his nose, didn't respond. He had calculated how much these damaged goods would set him back, and now he was mentally calculating how much money he was going to lose from all the juice Tomo had been drinking since she first stepped into his store.

"What else do you know?" Torako asked. She was sitting lengthwise in a booth, one arm propped over the back of the masonite chair, while the other rested on the table. The black walking shoes at the end of her crossed legs stuck out of the booth and over the aisle, a pose that appeared restive but contained tenseness, like Paul Newman taking a break from working on a chain gang in Cool Hand Luke.

Tomo took a sip of the juice before responding. "Uh, Julius Caesar… and Alexander the Great. That's pretty much all anyone needs to know, right?"

Torako's brain issued a command to shrug, but it was ignored by the rest of her body.

...

That morning, Chief Akiyama gave them their new assignment.

"Three convenience stores have been vandalized in the last ten days. Nothing has been stolen, and the cost of destruction at each store is negligible, pretty much misdemeanor level. It'd normally be left to the neighborhood cops, but," he said, holding up a calloused hand at Tomo, who was going to interrupt with the obvious question of why get us involved, "we believe it's the same two people attacking these stores. There are some oddities involved."

Chief Akiyama took a sip from his coffee mug before continuing. The aroma of cheap, oily coffee intermingled with the faint but unmistakable smell of fermented grain.

"Starting early today, huh chief?" Tomo asked.

"Yeah, because I knew you'd be in my office this morning," chief Akiyama said. "Anyway, what makes this different from the average vandalism case is that one of the perps points a gun – we believe it's a fake - at the cashier while the other uses a bat to destroy the merchandize."

"Huh," Tomo said. "It's like a hold-up, but they don't steal anything."

"Secondly, the perp doing the vandalizing usually targets no more than two aisles, the ones closest to the entrance. When he's done, they both run out. We can't get any ID on them because they wear hats and masks."

"What's the total damage?" Torako asked.

"About a hundred thousand yen."

Tomo snorted. "You got us going after chump change. Come on chief, put us on something big. You know how awesome we are."

"This is the biggest thing going," the chief said.

"Oh? Is it really?" Tomo said. She leaned forward made a grossly exaggerated wink, like a crooked lawyer approaching the bench of a bribed judge.

The chief opened his desk drawer and took out a bottle of antacid. He chewed two pills thoroughly before dropping the bottle back in the drawer. He slammed the drawer with enough force that a desk made of inferior wood would have splintered. He stared at the worn brass handle before looking up at the two detectives.

"The case folder is on the server. You guys got access to it. Only print what you think is the most important info. The Diet is pushing that save-our-forests initiative, and I don't want to get in trouble with the superintendent general." He waved his hand in dismissal. "Get to work."

...

They got to work, in their own way.

"Man, this is like a break," Tomo said. She was at her desk, leaning back in her chair. Her monitor was playing the surveillance footage from the case folder, collected by the beat cops who initially investigated the report of vandalism. Her printer was spitting out page after page of material related to the case. She leaned forward and grabbed what had already been printed, and started rifling through it. "A vacation, really, don't you think Torako?"

Her attempt at engaging Torako in conversation was met with as much success as the previous three, meaning a barely audible grunt. Torako was looking through an unmarked manila folder, held flat in her lap and hidden partially underneath her desk. The secret insides of the folder antagonized Tomo's curiosity to near psychotic levels, but she had long since learned to show restraint when the target was Torako. She was too fast for her, and seemed to have some sort of pre-cognitive psychic alarm when it came to Tomo planning mischief. Torako studied each page with deliberate and rigorous intensity, like a math major approaching a calculus problem. Her eyes hid behind her long bangs.

"Listen to this," Tomo said, reading the list of destroyed items from one of the stores. "Snack food, drinks, ice cream, magazines, baby powder..."

Chief Akiyama's door swung open, and he charged toward Tomo as if she was a tourist in Pamplona. When he reached Tomo's desk, he unplugged her printer while it was in the process of birthing a page. He picked the printer up, including its growing stack of printed pages, and carried it back to his office.

"Hey chief, can I have the stuff it already printed out?"

Chief Akiyama, after putting the printer in the corner of his office, marched back to Tomo's desk, snatched the already printed papers out of her hand, and marched back to his office, slamming the door behind him.

"Man, what a jerk," Tomo said. "You'd think he was our boss or something, huh Torako?"

Torako kept her head down and said, "You were printing too much."

"Oh, she speaks," Tomo said. She got out of her chair and stood over Torako. "Finally. I was wondering when my erudite partner would display that cutting commentary she's known for world over." Tomo put her hands on her hips and bent down over Torako, her insufferably smug expression powerful enough to turn Albert Schweitzer into a nihilist. "Then again, if I could drive or shoot a gun, I wouldn't need a partner. So you're really more like a chauffeur and a bodyguard. What do you think about that, eh?"

Torako's response was another "hmm," and a turn of the page in her manila folder. Tomo maintained her pose as long as her attention span allowed.

Tomo sighed and straightened up. "Whatever," she said, and walked to the bathroom.

...

Tomo left the bathroom and took a circuitous route back to her desk. Her path zigzagged like a pirate map, and the X was Kazumi's desk.

"The tampon dispenser is empty," Tomo said. "Kazumi, you really need to see a doctor about that."

"Wh-what? What are you talking about? I have nothing to do with that!" Kazumi stood up from her desk, her hands formed into shaky fists, and her face hot and red, like molten iron. "And how dare you even talk about that!"

Tomo shrugged. "Hey, I'm just concerned, that's all. Sheesh." She strutted back to her desk, swinging her arms. "Some people just don't want to talk about their hygiene problems. Don't they realize it's a social issue that affects us all?"

While a few snickered, most of the male office workers within earshot lowered their gaze. The females privileged with hearing Tomo's Public Service Announcement stiffened in their movements while their faces reddened. Keyboards clicked louder than normal.

She passed Torako, who was looking at the case surveillance footage on her monitor. Tomo spied Torako's manila folder, sitting lonely on her desk, like an uninhabited island on a sea of milky green formica. The glint in Tomo's eyes would have betrayed her plan, if only Torako wasn't distracted by the scene on her monitor and the one in her mind.

Tomo snatched the folder. "What's this?" she said. She flipped it open and saw a photocopy of Asagi Ayase's autopsy report. Her jaw dropped, and she flipped a page to see a copy of the Broodwich Bakery's tax information.

Torako stood up and took the folder from Tomo's unprotesting hand. The look in Torako's eyes was as dead as a cold winter haze.

Tomo narrowed her eyes. In a rare display of her serious, quiet voice, Tomo said, "Conference room. Now."

...

Tomo took another sip of her juice, and decided she had it figured out. She walked from the ice cream freezer to Torako, sitting still in her booth.

"All right," Tomo said, "my big awesome mind has cracked the mystery. It's not a bunch of bored delinquents doing this for kicks. It's planned out, and it has a target."

Tomo took another swig of her juice. "Their target is the ice cream," Tomo said. She waited for the thunderous admiration to roll in, but none came.

Torako stood up from her booth. The store manager walked in closer, craning his neck as if he was eavesdropping on a private conversation.

Torako gestured toward the floor of the two vandalized aisles, full of destroyed food and merchandize. "What's all this?"

"Oh, it's just a decoy, trying to throw us off," Tomo said. "They're trying to make it look like random destruction, but it's deliberate. If they only destroyed the ice cream, it'd be too easy. Come on, look."

Torako followed Tomo to the second aisle from the entrance, artfully gliding through the mess on the floor while Tomo walked without concern of what she stepped on.

"You saw the footage of the other three attacks. The vandal swings at anything within reach. He doesn't bend down, or squat, or use his hands. When he goes after the drink fridge, he'll open the door and just start swinging."

Tomo pointed along the bottom shelf. "If anything from down here is on the floor, it's because he kicked at it. He pretty much keeps his vandalizing at arm level, what he can easily reach."

Torako followed Tomo as she walked to the aisle next to the entrance, where the ice cream display was located. Tomo grabbed the sliding door to the ice cream freezer and opened it. "Look at this," she said, pointing to the empty bottom shelf. "He had to squat to get the ice cream on the bottom." She pointed at the multi-colored ice cream puddle on the floor, with crushed cartons and torn wrappers stuck in the sticky mess. "He also had to stick his bat way in the back to knock some of this ice cream on the floor. That's a lot more work than what he did at the other aisle, and a bit more than your average slash n' burn vandal wants to do."

Tomo took one big gulp of her juice, holding the bottle upright to drain the last sweet drop. She let out a self-satisfied "Ahh!" before continuing. "Anyway, it's the only time in this whole rampage that he kneels or bends down. We saw him do the same thing on the footage from the other three stores. Sometimes he'll miss the magazines, or the drinks, depending on how the store is laid out. But, he always goes to the ice cream freezer."

Tomo walked down the aisle toward the entrance of the store. "Look at this stuff. See, when he's finished, he runs toward the exit and just sort of swats stuff onto the floor. He doesn't smash anything open or stomp on anything like he does before he hits the ice cream freezer. He's already finished his mission, so he doesn't waste time getting out of the store."

Tomo tossed the empty juice bottle over her shoulder. It shattered against the hard linoleum floor. The manager jumped at the sound of the breaking glass, while the two officers guarding the entrance peeked in. Torako showed no reaction. "So, what do you think?" Tomo asked.

Torako held her chin while glancing at the ice-cream freezer and the two vandalized aisles. "It's far-fetched," she said, "but if you think all this is deliberate and not random, I'd have to say it works, in theory."

"Doesn't it? Doesn't it?" Tomo said, striking a pose like a champion super-hero, widening her stance and putting her fists on her waist. "No criminal scum can ever out think my genius!" Tomo laughed a machinegun style 'ha-ha-ha', long and loud.

Torako approached the manager and asked for a list of all the damaged ice cream, sorted by manufacturer. She instructed him to deliver the list to the local neighborhood policeman, who would FAX or deliver it to her.

She turned to Tomo and said, "We'll need to get itemized lists, by brand, from the other three stores. If what you say is true, then I figure they're disgruntled employees, or ex-employees, striking back at their company by destroying its products. We'll compare lists and see which company gets the most damage."

Torako thanked the manager for his corporation and gave permission to clean the mess. The two police officers on guard duty saluted the departing detectives. Tomo left a trail of wet, sticky shoe prints on the parking lot, each step sounding like old masking tape being ripped from a wall.

"We'll interview people at whatever company shows up the most," Torako said. "See if they fired anyone recently, some contentious, drama-filled firing. They might be our guys."

"I can't see this hurting a company's bottom line," Tomo said, sliding her shoes on the asphalt in an attempt to remove the rest of the stickiness. "If I was them, I'd knock off delivery trucks."

"Who knows," Torako said, putting on her black Ray-Bans. "It's weird. Only lead we got, might as well follow it."

...

Tomo and Torako entered the chilly conference room. Underneath the thermostat was a note with strict instructions on keeping the temperature at 18 degrees Celsius, followed by an explanation that a gathering of so many people in such a small area would cause an uncomfortable amount of heat.

A bulletin board with punctures from thousands of thumbtacks rested on a wall behind a lectern. A dozen desks faced the lectern in four organized rows.

Hanging on the beige colored walls were aggressively colorful posters. They included subjects like encouraging friendly relations with the police force, urges to report suspicious behavior, and admonitions to obey the speed limit. One poster had an amorphous mascot rattling off safety tips to a blank-eyed gang of super-deformed children.

Torako entered first, protecting the manila folder like an overdue library book. She grabbed a chair and turned it around to face the door before sitting in it. Tomo locked the door, rolled the thermostat up to 30, and switched on the lights.

Tomo pointed at the folder. "How did you get that?"

"One of my sources," Torako said, "who wants his identity kept private. Works at the N.P.S.C."

"So you didn't steal it."

"No," Torako said. Tomo waited for an addition, but Torako only stared at her in bored disinterest, like a stopping-guard waiting for children to pass.

Tomo wanted to push her out of the chair, but she knew neither of them needed a physical confrontation. "I don't even need to ask this next question," Tomo said, as she began pacing in front of Torako, "because I already know the answer. But I'm going to ask it anyway." She stopped pacing to stare at Torako, and asked, "Why, exactly, do you want information on a sealed case?"

"Because I want to solve it," Torako said.

Tomo tossed her hands in the air. "Because you want to solve it. Of course." Tomo started pacing again. "You want to solve a case on a murdered gangster, sealed by the N.P.S.C., sealed, maybe, because of some wrongdoings by higher-ups, because she's your former friend. You want to, what, solve it out of loyalty? Duty to an old friend?"

"Yeah," Torako said. "That's right."

Tomo sighed and looked at the floor. "You ought to be concerned about your duty to your current friend, Torako," Tomo said. "But it's your choice." Tomo looked up at Torako, a slight sneer on her lips. "Good luck breaking it."

Tomo turned to leave when Torako said, "I could use your help."

Tomo turned around and arched an eyebrow. "Oh, what was that?" she said, cupping a hand over her ear. "Is that someone asking for my help?"

"This thing has Ms. Ando's current address, but it's otherwise filled with dead ends," Torako said, tapping the folder with one finger. "This was the most my source was able to copy without getting caught. I can't do this alone, Tomo. I know I can get fired over this, and if this is as rotten with corrupt cops as I think it is, my life might be in danger."

"So you're going to put my life in danger, too," Tomo said. Her lips curled into a snarl. "That's incredibly selfish."

"I know," Torako said. She attempted to meet Tomo's angry stare, but looked away. "I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to ask."

They were silent for several seconds. Tomo rubbed the back of her neck and looked at the floor while Torako shaded her eyes with her hand and rubbed her temple with her thumb. Torako got out of the chair.

"I wish I had more to go on," Torako said. Tomo's head jerked up and a new light shone from her eyes. She started digging through the pockets of her trenchcoat. "I had to give it one last shot, just to say I tried my best," Torako said.

"Torako," Tomo said, "Look." She held out her hand, palm up. Torako squinted at it and saw a green thread and a coat button, both sealed in their respective evidence bags.

Torako took them from her hand and held them in front of her. "You got these from Asagi's hotel room, didn't you?"

"Yep," Tomo said. Normally she'd be beaming with pride at being helpful, but it was hard to summon that feeling after her intense flare of anger.

"You forgot to turn it over to the crime lab," Torako said.

"Yep again," Tomo said, failing in her attempt to muster a smile.

"You've done this before," Torako said, "but this is the first time I'm actually grateful that you forgot to turn in evidence. Thanks."

"Hey, glad to be of service," Tomo said. "So, are you actually happy that I had those things on me? I mean, are you in a better mood?"

"Yeah," Torako said, putting the evidence in her own pocket. The lines around her eyes softened. "I guess I am."

"Good," Tomo said. She then thrust a finger in Torako's face and said, "Then you'll listen when I tell you you've been a real jerk to me, Torako! And I hate it!"

Torako raised her eyebrows slightly, but didn't back away from Tomo's accusatory finger. "A jerk?"

"Yeah!" Tomo said. She started pacing again, tense and predatory, like a caged lion. "You give me the silent treatment when I try to talk to you. You look right through me, like I'm not there. You're scaring me, Torako, and I hate being scared of my own partner. I was afraid you snapped."

Tomo stopped pacing, and pointed one finger skyward, signaling a new thought. "I know why you're acting that way," she said. "You haven't got any counseling yet for killing that kidnapper."

"No, I did," Torako said. "The very next morning, on our day off."

"Eh? But you didn't get any extended leave. It's S.O.P.!"

Torako rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. "Tomo, read your handbook again. Psychological counseling after discharging a firearm at a person is mandatory, but it's up to the psychologist to decide if you need extended leave. You can request not to take any, and that's what I did. He decided it was reasonable."

Tomo peered at Torako with an inquisitive look, narrowing her eyes and rubbing her chin back and forth with her finger, like she was sawing wood. "There was that thing you said at Ms. Ayase's memorial, to her sister," Tomo said. "You acted like you were joking, but I can never tell with you."

Torako sat back down in her chair and placed the folder on her lap. "Tomo," Torako said, looking up at Tomo and meeting her stare, "I'm not a cold-blooded killer. I don't like killing. I don't get a cheap thrill out of it. It makes me sick to my stomach. I knew this job was dangerous when I took it, and I knew there might come a time when I would take a person's life. I've killed four…" Torako trailed off. She let out a small, quiet sigh, and looked toward the wall. "I don't like it," she said.

"I believe you," Tomo said. "You act so cool sometimes, it's just hard to tell. I guess I needed to hear it from you, straight. But I still don't like how you've been treating me."

Torako looked back at Tomo. "Tomo, I'm in grief, and I'm angry at her being murdered. I walk into a hotel room, expecting another typical murder scene, and instead I see what used to be my closest friend, the closest I ever had, curled up on the floor. Dead. Yeah, we drifted apart, but at that moment, it didn't matter. You can't get over it after a couple of days."

Tomo leaned against the door and put her hands in her pants pockets.

"Your typical happy-go-lucky attitude isn't so charming right now. That's not your fault, of course," Torako said, raising a hand to quell any potential protest. Tomo showed no reaction, almost as if she didn't hear her. "I haven't been dealing with my feelings very well. But, your attitude kinda makes me feel like you don't care about what happened."

"Well duh I don't care," Tomo said, rolling her eyes. "I care about you, I mean, but not… this." Tomo gestured at Torako's folder by flinging her hand in a dismissive arc. "It's something that makes my To- uh, my partner gloomy and mean. It upsets me to see you like this."

"Can't blame you for feeling that way," Torako said. "I guess I've been taking my feelings out on you, then. Sorry for scaring you, and ignoring you. I promise to do better. It's just…" Torako raised the folder and waved it. "Yeah. One last shot, and I'll move on."

Tomo closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled. She opened her eyes and said, "I'll help you find Ms. Ayase's murderer."

Torako slowly put the folder back in her lap. "Please don't think I expect you to help me with this," Torako said.

"No no, I want to help," Tomo said. "I think you're going overboard about our lives being in danger, but we do need to be careful working on a sealed case. We could get suspended, or even fired. We need to figure out how to juggle it with whatever the chief has us working on. But we can work out a plan to keep from being caught. I already got some ideas."

"Tomo," Torako said, "Thank you." Torako then did something that stunned Tomo to near speechlessness. She smiled. It was a sunny and warm smile, made precious by its rarity.

Tomo held that warm feeling for a little while, and then exhaled. "That was exhausting," Tomo said. She made a motion of flinging sweat from her forehead.

Torako took that as the signal that their discussion was over, so she got out of her chair. "That hard to air out your feelings?"

"No, it's just that I was serious for two-" Tomo checked her watch. "Four minutes straight! Man, I want to go home, and go to bed."

"To early for that," Torako said, checking her watch. Under her breath, she muttered, "Back to business as usual." She looked up and saw Tomo with her arms spread out.

"We need to hug," Tomo said.

"Why?"

"Why?" Tomo said. "What do you mean why? Now come on."

Torako's mouth made a faint grimace. "No."

Tomo reeled back in a campy display of hurt feelings, like a b-movie actress. "What? Why not?"

Torako groaned. "Tomo, you grope me when we hug."

"So?"

"So, I don't like it."

"You don't like it," Tomo said, giving Torako a perverted leer a dirty old man couldn't have bettered. "I thought your kind liked that sort of thing."

"My kind," Torako growled.

"Okay, okay," Tomo said, waving her hand at Torako, like she was cooling a cup of hot tea. "I'm being serious now. I promise not to grope you." Tomo held out her arms again. "Please?"

"Okay," Torako said, tossing the manila folder in the chair. "But if you do, I'm going to punch you in the stomach."

"That's fair," Tomo said, and they hugged. When they broke the embrace, Tomo looked up at her and grinned. "See, don't you feel better?"

Torako punched her in the stomach.


	7. Chapter 7

Tomo was flipping through Asagi Ayase's case folder while Torako commanded the car through traffic. Torako did her best to ignore Tomo's vigorous and expressive gum chewing, but one loud smack over an important document later, Torako was ready to throw her out.

"Where did you get that gum?" Torako asked.

"Huh?" Tomo looked at Torako, her jawing temporarily halted. "At the convenience store, of course."

"You didn't pay for it."

Tomo grinned. "Oh, I see. You want in on the loot. Well, here." Tomo reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a pack of gum, "Chekov's" emblazoned on its side. "It's green tea gum," Tomo said.

Torako spared a glance at the pack, and frowned when she saw the label. "The worst green tea gum on the market," she said. "That stuff tastes like gunpowder."

"Oh, you just don't have the refined tastes-" and Tomo was interrupted by dispatch flaring over the car radio, requesting their location and current heading. Tomo closed the folder, stuck it between her seat and the center console, and grabbed the mic.

"Heading toward the civil office," Tomo said.

"Continue current heading. Chief Akiyama will meet you there. Out." Dispatch clicked off.

Tomo made a production of hanging up the mic, banging it around the holder, emboldening herself with encouraging comments, her voice strained like a bodybuilder trying for that one extra bench-press. "Come on, you can do it," Tomo said. "Believe in yourself." Tomo hung the mic properly when she saw that Torako wasn't going to be baited.

"Anyway, why does the chief want to meet us at the hearing?" Tomo asked.

"He wants to fire you and give me a medal," Torako said.

"What? No he doesn't! You don't know!"

"Then why'd you ask?"

"To see if you'd lie. And you did." Tomo arched her eyebrows, crossed her arms, and lifted her chin like a Marquis tossing a devastating bon mot at a hated adversary. "I guess we know who the real moral compass of this pairing is. And you're supposed to be a civil servant. For shame!"

Torako was going to mention Tomo's stolen gum, but changed her mind.

...

They walked across the walkway to the entrance of the Chiyoda ward's civil office. The stickiness had left the bottom of Tomo's shoes, and barely a squeak was heard as she walked toward the building's entrance.

Chief Akiyama was standing next to the doors of the main entrance, his arms folded across his navy blue suit. His tie, displaying blotches of purples and reds instead of an actual design, escaped from his vest and flapped around in the first chilly wind of fall.

Torako was trying to figure out the appropriate distance before she could say a greeting – she didn't want to shout and attract attention, but she didn't want to appear snotty by not saying anything – when Tomo demonstrated her own ability of handling this social question.

"Hey chief!" Tomo shouted through cupped hands. Innocent bystanders on the sidewalk spared a glance at Tomo before going about their business. The chief released a barely perceptible nod, so slight that the duo weren't sure if his movement was a hallucination.

"This hearing has gotten a lot shorter," the chief said when the two stopped in front of him. "Hasegawa got shanked."

"Hmm," Torako said. She reached into her khaki canvas jacket to pull out a cigarette, but stopped when she remembered where she was.

Tomo blinked. "Hasegawa? Who's that?"

The chief looked at Torako with a smirk and gestured his arm toward Tomo, like he was introducing a family member freshly unshackled from the basement.

"Kidnapper you arrested," Torako said. "Kicked him in the crotch."

"Oh, Baldy!" Tomo said, slapping her open hand with her fist. "Yeah, that guy. Shanked, huh? Well, so much for the hearing."

"Hasegawa didn't show up at roll call this morning," the chief said. "They sent some officers to his cell, but found him lying in a pool of his own blood on the walk way. Turns out he was stabbed five times, guts poking out. He bled to death pretty quick."

"Any suspects?" Torako asked.

"Yeah, the whole holding facility," the chief said. "No one's saying a word. Apparently the whole lot of 'em didn't see a thing. The weapon hasn't been found yet, as far as I know."

The chief made his hand like a hitchhiker and pointed his thumb over his shoulder, aiming at the entrance. "Anyway, go on in and make your statement to the prosecutor. It's going to be perfunctory stuff, shouldn't take you guys longer than twenty minutes. Later kids." The chief walked off toward the parking garage.

Tomo turned her head in unison with chief Akiyama's departing figure. She cupped her hands over her mouth, but all that came out was a muffled "ack" when Torako gripped Tomo's throat and pulled her into the building.

...

Twenty minutes later, Torako and Tomo were driving to Ms. Ando's current residence.

"Did he really have to meet us to say all that?" Tomo said. She held her open hand, palm up, at the car radio. "I mean, we have a radio right here. We have cell phones. What's the big deal?"

"The chief likes it face-to-face," Torako said. "Wants to talk directly. He's always been like that."

"Yeah, so he inconveniences us because of some weird quirks," Tomo said. "Man, he ought to think of his own people every now and then."

"We were headed that way anyway," Torako said.

"So? He delayed us from going to the hearing and getting it over with. And why are you standing up for him?" Tomo said, leaning over the center console and thrusting her face at Torako. Tomo grinned. "You got a crush on the chief, don't you? I think it's gross, going after an old man like that, but hey, it's your life."

Torako down shifted as the car approached a red light. Her face remained impassive, the one rock Tomo's jibes couldn't break. "At least I don't call Osaka in the middle of the night to tell her I love her," Torako said.

"What?" Tomo said, leaning away from Torako. "I didn't tell her that!" Tomo narrowed her eyes as the realization hit her. "Rico," Tomo said. "I'm going to kill him!" Tomo flipped out her cell phone and pounded the keys, creating a text message to put her husband in his place.

The light turned green, and Torako drove on. "We need to work out a method of investigating Asagi's murder, so we don't get caught," Torako said, when Tomo had finished her text message.

Tomo pocketed her cell phone. She looked at Torako, held her fist over her mouth, and coughed like a public speaker at a lectern.

"Well, for starters, I do think you're being overly paranoid. Think about it. If the cops in Taito, or at least the Ueno district, are in on it like you think they are, wouldn't they have started cleaning out Ms. Ayase's building before we even got there? I mean, why wait for us to show up and grab the computer?"

Tomo paused to let Torako speak, but she didn't. Tomo continued. "Secondly, no one up there knows that you and Ms. Ayase were friends. I left it out of my report, like you asked. Really, no one is going to suspect that we're working on this case. I bet they've forgotten about us already."

"They took the pictures on the wall," Torako said.

"And?"

Torako's mouth straightened into a grimace. "There was one with me and Asagi, remember?"

"Oh come on," Tomo said. "They aren't going to notice that. And I doubt they took every single item in the building. I mean, I bet some of it went with Ms. Ando. We can ask her when we see her." Tomo pounded her fist into her open palm and chuckled like a Chicago heavy working for Al Capone. "And boy, do I got some questions."

"Sounds good so far," Torako said, "as long as we can stay inside our own ward. Once we venture into Taito, though, there might be problems. We'll have to figure out how to keep a low profile and not get noticed."

"Oh, I got that figured out already," Tomo said. "We'll get Osaka. No one will recognize her, or even think she's involved with us. Total stealth infiltration."

Torako gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary. "I don't think so," she said.

"Oh come on!" Tomo said. "She's deputized! It'll work, it'll work."

Officially, Osaka was a Civilian Assistant to the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force. Tomo had called them deputies since the day she found out about them, and had insisted on that term despite no one else taking it up.

"Her position is a translator," Torako said. "We can't use her for undercover work, especially on something that could end our careers."

"Oh, I have a way around that too," Tomo said. She rolled down the window and spat out her gum before unwrapping another piece and sticking it in her mouth.

"See, as a deputy, she's required to assist police when we tell her to," Tomo said, smacking through her wad of gum. "It's in the contract she signed. Not doing that can get her license revoked, fines, even jail time. So, if something does happen – and it's not – she can always say we ordered her to do it. It'll give her a way out. She can claim ignorance, which will totally work when the judge takes just one look at her." Tomo leaned back in her seat and put her hands behind her head, a semi-miraculous pose in the cramped confines of the Civic. "See? It's an airtight defense!"

Torako shook her head. "I'd rather not. She's got her own life anyway, running that restaurant. No one else needs to be involved in this."

"Suit yourself," Tomo said. "Anyway, I got another plan."

"Let's hear it."

"Monsieur Chien," Tomo said, giving Torako a double dose of thumbs up. Monsieur Chien, named by Tomo, was a French Bloodhound rescued from a drug trafficker when he was a puppy. He was transferred to the kennel and trained as a tracker.

"What good will he do?"

"Oh, come on," Tomo said. "It's a last resort. We go back to the hotel room, and have him sniff that thread and button. We'll let him find the scent, and track the killer."

Torako whistled. "That is a long shot if there ever was one. Too many days have passed for a scent to be that strong, and I'm sure they've scrubbed the room clean by now."

"What?" Tomo said, turning toward Torako and pursing her lips. "Do you doubt the tracking power of Monsieur Chien?"

"Not a bit," Torako said. "Just saying, if more days pass, he won't be able to track anything in that room. Assuming there's anything left to track there now. Then you have the whole problem of going back to the murder scene of a sealed case with a tracking dog, and in the wrong district in the wrong ward."

"Aw, Torako," Tomo said, breaking out her whining voice, as cringe inducing as sandpaper on aluminum. "You're being way too paranoid. They aren't looking for us, and the only thing we need to do is not slip up and tell people what we're doing."

"I'll consider Monsieur Chien," Torako said.

Tomo turned toward Torako and smacked her gum in loud, rapid bursts, like a series of staccato beats from a snare drum.

Her symphony of annoyance was interrupted by a yelp when she bit her tongue. She held her hand to the side of her mouth and moaned, while Torako did her best not to laugh.

...

Ms. Ando was now living with her son and daughter-in-law in a two story house in an upper middle-class neighborhood. The daughter-in-law was a patent attorney. The son was a stay-at-home husband who wrote cheap sci-fi serials under an alias, and had ghost written for several popular light novel series.

The two parked the car at the edge of the curb on the small residential street, with Torako holding the manila folder in her arm. Tomo marveled at the patch of grass framing the walkway to the door.

"Wow," Tomo said. "This must cost a fortune."

"You mind letting me do all the questions?" Torako asked.

Tomo made an exasperated groan. "Go ahead, hot shot, if my interrogation technique is too advanced for you."

Tomo rang the doorbell. She put her hands in her trenchcoat pockets and flapped the edges, while rolling from her heels to her toes and back.

Torako was as still and solid as a stone fortress in medieval Europe. "They got a peephole," Torako said, and Tomo immediately straightened up.

The oak door opened, and a skinny middle-aged man wearing a white dress shirt appeared. He eyed the pair and said, "May I help you?"

...

Ms. Ando's room was breathtaking in the amount of keepsakes cluttering its small space. The kotatsu from the tearoom over her old bakery was the centerpiece, surrounded by cushions and pillows. Ms. Ando apparently spent her sitting time on the floor, since there were no chairs in the room. At night, she laid out a futon to sleep on.

On the wall next to the entrance was an antique wooden chest of drawers, its presence as weighty as a stern stare from the head nun at a Catholic school. Its design was so solid and severe that it could be drawn as a set of rows and columns in a spreadsheet program. The three movers tasked with getting her items to her new room saved that one for last. They hated it, but their hate was as effective as spitballs against Gibraltar.

The rest of the furniture lacked the drawer's sternness, although they still had their own pretentions at solidity. Nothing less than solid pine was used in the bookshelves, now holding pictures (Torako was relieved to see that Ms. Ando had rescued several of the pictures on Asagi's wall, including the one with her in it), vases, and other knickknacks. The walnut encased radio, a KLH model 8 bought in 1964 by her husband and never replaced, was on one of the shelves and played enka at low volume. This wasn't so much Ms. Ando's room as it was a museum dedicated to her past.

The curator, however, did not make the same timeless impression. She appeared hollowed out, and her movements were overly deliberate, as if they had to be decided by committee. The once sparkling, teasing eyes, full of stubborn fire, now only had the River Lethe flowing behind them.

"It's nice to see you two again," Ms. Ando said, but there was no feeling behind it. It was a perfunctory greeting to get out of the way so the conversation could be over as soon as possible. Her gaze rested on the manila folder Torako had placed on the kotatsu. "Do you have more nice things to show me?"

"When did they come in?" Torako asked.

"They?" Ms. Ando said, still looking at the folder.

"The people that took over your building."

Ms. Ando made a slow shrug, lifting her head and looking to the side. "They woke me up at 4:00 that morning, after you left. There had to be about fifteen cops there. Even more moving people. They didn't even have the courtesy to wait for the morning," Ms. Ando said. She turned to look at Torako and attempted to smile. It came out less than that. "I got dressed and saw about twelve people on my floor, rooting through my belongings. I didn't say anything. I knew what was going on. They saw me and started shouting downstairs, I guess to whoever was over the operation."

Ms. Ando paused as she looked down at the folder. "They had made a mess of my bakery. That hurt the most. I go downstairs and whoever was in charge - I don't know his name, I wasn't paying attention - asks me what happened to Asagi's computer. I tell him two detectives picked it up. He didn't like that answer."

"Do you remember anything about him?" Torako asked.

"Oh, he looked like every detective you see on a T.V. show" Ms. Ando said. "Young, close cut hair, wearing a cheap suit and a khaki trenchcoat. Cheap smelling cologne. Just a cheap brat with a badge." Ms. Ando let out a strangled laugh. "An amateur compared to Saito and Watanabe."

"Did you know them?"

"No, but they came and visited my son a week ago," she said. "Made threats against him. They wanted it to get back to Asagi, a warning on what they'd do to her. She took care of that, though."

Ms. Ando swallowed. "Anyway, they took me to the Ueno district office…" Ms. Ando furrowed her brow, and Torako could see the genetic resemblance when her son did it. It was a cavalcade of wrinkles, like canals cut through sand. "You know, I don't think it was the Ueno district office," Ms. Ando said.

Torako raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Ms. Ando shook her head, trying to drop the mental pachinko balls into their pockets. "I'm not sure what it was. Perhaps it was a koban. Whatever it was, I was kept there for about six hours…"

"Damn," Tomo whispered.

"…and they wouldn't let me make any calls. I couldn't drink anything, or go to the bathroom. It was humiliating. Several different people came in to ask me what I knew about Asagi's business. I didn't pay attention to them. I kept telling them I was an old woman that ran a bakery. They eventually let me go. They drove me back to my old building and dropped me off. It was empty, and most of my stuff was piled up on the sidewalk. Now, why would they do that?"

Ms. Ando directed this question at the table. It was a circular question, aimed at herself instead of her two listeners.

"Anyway, I called my son and he handled everything. Yuka even took off from work to organize some movers. She wanted to put in a complaint at the Ueno police office, but I told her she'd be wasting her time. My son agreed with me." Her eyes lost focus.

"I saw that the building was purchased by Mainichi Construction," Torako said.

"Yes," Ms. Ando said. "He's wanted to destroy that building for years. It got in the way of his expansion plans. We were on good terms, though. He never tried to take it from me or threaten me. I was thinking of selling it around five years ago, when I could no longer afford the property taxes. Asagi was a customer back then, and she volunteered to buy it and let me keep the bakery and apartment, if she could use the corner room as her office. I didn't mind, I only had it for storage, and it was better than having to move out if Mr. Mainichi bought it. It was a good deal."

"Did Asagi will the property to anyone?"

"No, she didn't have a will," Ms. Ando said. Her monotone voice cracked. "Since it's commercial property and part of a criminal investigation, ownership reverted to the ward. I have no idea how Mr. Mainichi bought the property so fast. I suppose the police decided they got all they wanted out of it, and he was first in line to buy it. He probably promised to support a political campaign."

Ms. Ando rubbed one eye with the heel of her palm. Torako decided to wrap this up and let Ms. Ando get back to sleep. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the two evidence bags, one with the green thread and the other with the black coat button, and showed them to Ms. Ando.

"Do you recognize these?" Torako asked.

Ms. Ando said she didn't. Torako opened the manila folder and showed her the picture of the suspect at Tokyo Station, the only one her source was able to find.

"We believe this is the person that made the anonymous call to the hotel that night," Torako said. The night Asagi was murdered, Torako didn't say. "Do you recognize her?"

Ms. Ando shook her head. "I can barely recognize her as a female, with those glasses and face mask."

"Do you think this could be Ryoko?"

"Ryoko?" Ms. Ando said. "What time were those pictures taken?"

"Around six p.m."

"Hmm," Ms. Ando said. "She works for me from 7:00 p.m. to closing. I still don't think that's her, though."

"Do you have an address or a phone number we can reach her at?" Torako asked.

"No, my files were taken, too, and I can't remember it." Ms. Ando pressed her hand against her forehead. "She has a day job, somewhere. I don't know anything about it."

Torako nodded at Tomo. "Thanks for your time, Ms. Ando, we'll be on our way."

"Wait," Ms. Ando said. She stood up too fast, because she tottered on one foot before regaining her balance. She stood still to let the light-headedness leave, and walked to a bookshelf holding pictures. She took the one of Asagi and Torako in front of Torako's new car, taken the first year of their university attendance.

"I'd like you to have this," Ms. Ando said, handing the picture to Torako. Torako bowed and mumbled a thank you before leaving.

...

Tomo and Torako waited in the foyer of the house for Mr. Ando to finish checking up on his mother. Torako held the manila folder and picture while Tomo snooped through the drawers of the rolltop drawer stationed against the wall.

"Boring," Tomo said, shutting a drawer. "Stamps, staples, pencils… no drugs."

"Looking for a quick fix?" Torako asked.

"Nah, if I wanted that I'd go to your house," Tomo said.

"Hmm."

"Because I mean, if someone smokes cigarettes, you know they got stronger stuff to smoke, right?" Tomo slammed the last drawer shut and turned to face Torako. Her arms were crossed and she tilted her head back and poked her chin out, the self-satisfied smile inviting a punch to her face. "Once again I hit a home run in the civil ethics world series."

Mr. Ando left Ms. Ando's room and walked down to the foyer. He didn't make eye contact with the two until he was standing in front of them.

"Will there be anything else, officers?"

"Ryoko," Torako said. "Ms. Ando's night clerk. Do you know where she is, or her day job?"

"I don't know her address, sorry," Mr. Ando said. "I do know where she works during the day, though."

Torako pulled out her notebook and pen, but Mr. Ando shook his head. "All I know about the address is that it's somewhere in Kojimachi. Maiden's Crown Flower Shop."

"Eww," Tomo said, as Torako wrote down the name.

"Good, she's in Chiyoda," Torako said. "This makes our job much easier. Anything else you can tell us?"

"It used to be a Sudohbucks Coffee shop before Starbucks sued them out of existence. I hope that helps."

...

Torako asked Tomo to punch in the street address of the Maiden's Crown Flower shop into the GPS.

"Eh? We're going to interview Ryoko anyway?"

"Might as well," Torako said. "How much of Ms. Ando's story did you believe?"

"Half on, half off. Her giving you that picture seemed sort of like a last minute peace offering, instead of being from the goodness of her heart. An emotional bribe, I guess."

"Heh," Torako said. "She lost most of her life two days ago, and we doubt what she said. When did we turn so cynical?"

"You're the cynical one," Tomo said. "I just know better than to trust old ladies."

...

Ryoko was working when Tomo and Torako entered the flower shop. Torako said they were no longer investigating Asagi's murder, but were wrapping up some lose ends concerning their limited stay in the Ueno district. They figured Ryoko wasn't bright or brave enough to dig into their business, and she proved them correct.

Ryoko had an alibi in the manager of the flower shop, a thin, salty woman who looked older than she really was. She showed the detectives security footage from the night the call took place. Ryoko was visible sweeping the floor. Ryoko didn't recognize the thread, button, or picture.

It was after 2:00 when Torako decided to head back to the office to file the report of the convenience store attack, but Tomo protested their lack of lunch and demanded that Torako stop at a taiyaki stand. Tomo grabbed a red bean paste taiyaki and a chocolate taiyaki, while Torako decided on the cheese.

They leaned against the side of the Civic while eating their food. The local high school was in the neighborhood, and the shouting from a practice baseball session was flowing down the street. They could hear the ping of a ball hitting a bat, followed by the cheers of the batter's team.

"So," Tomo said, her mouth full of a pastry fish and its bloody looking filling, "what's the plan of attack?"

"Not much we can do," Torako said. She ate her cheese taiyaki with slower, practiced bites, and would sometimes wipe her mouth with a napkin in her free hand. "I'd love to interview Saito and Watanabe, but there's no way we would ever build a convincing lie to get into the detention facility. We'd be found out in no time."

"I know!" Tomo said. "We could be entertainers sent to cheer up the prisoners! I'll dress as Mario, and you can be Luigi-"

"Tomo…"

"Nuns!" Tomo said. "We could dress as nuns and ask if we could convert the poor sinners. My husband is Catholic, he could totally give us some pointers on nun behavior-"

"You can stop right there," Torako said. "I wouldn't do it even if I thought it would work. Which it won't." Torako didn't bother to mention the destruction and mayhem that occurred last time Rico's Afro-Brazilian style Catholicism was combined with Tomo's enthusiastically irreligious nature. Tomo's probably banned from every church in the country.

"Alright," Tomo said. "How about Mr. Mainichi?"

"Almost as unlikely," Torako said. She took a bite of her taiyaki, chewed, and swallowed. "He bought that building awful quick. That sounds like some kind of insider knowledge, maybe a friend at the police station. We have no way of knowing how close he is to the cops there, and if he'd report us."

"Then that leaves Monsieur Chien!" Tomo said. She finished her red bean paste taiyaki and started on her chocolate filled taiyaki.

"Yeah, Monsieur Chien," Torako said. "We'll call the kennel master and pick Chien-"

"Monsieur Chien."

"-up when we finish our report on the convenience store vandalism."

"Good call," Tomo said. She chomped on her taiyaki. She was halfway through with her second taiyaki and Torako had barely finished hers.

"We have to go to Ueno after all," Torako said. "Back to that stupid hotel room. At least we don't have to talk to anyone outside of front desk, but we need to make sure the place isn't being scoped out by cops. Otherwise, we'll just have to call it off."

"Yeah, it'll be risky," Tomo said through a mouthful of chocolate and pastry. "I mean, we were there just days ago. I'm sure the whole staff would recognize us on sight."

Tomo changed her voice to a high-pitched, nasal squeak. "Why, there go those two detectives! With a dog! And they want that old room? Boy, that sure is strange. I guess I better call the police just to make sure."

Tomo started punching an imaginary phone in midair, and made bleep sounds with each stab. She continued her narration.

"Hello, police? Those two detectives are back. Why yes, they are in the same room. Oh, you're sending in the riot squat to arrest them? Great idea, I'll alert the media-"

"Okay, you win," Torako said, through gritted teeth. She sighed and shook her head. "We'll get Osaka in on it. But we tell her everything, and we let her decide. I'm the one calling her."

"Oh? Why you?"

"You'll just bully her into it."

"Bully? Please, I'll have you know that's the power of friendship."

"Whatever," Torako said, as she concentrated on finishing her taiyaki. "We'll go see Mr. Ichiro and grab Monsieur Chien as soon as we finish our report for this morning."

...

After filing their report, and during Tomo's daily harassment of Kazumi Kondo, Torako called Osaka to ask for her help with the case, explaining their plan carefully. Osaka readily agreed to help, and the two planned to meet at her apartment, that day, at 18:00 hours. First, Tomo and Torako had to grab Monsieur Chien for the big night.

Tomo and Torako pushed open the glass door and stepped onto the grassy yard, a wrought-iron perimeter fence with barbed wire playing sentry, and rust colored noise-reducing plastic weaved into the iron bars.

They walked across the grass to the small metal building housing the kennel and the kennel master's office. The door to the building was open, so Tomo called for the kennel master.

"Mr. Ichiro," she said. "You in?"

A faint "dammit" coasted through the open doorway into the outside. "Yeah, come on in," Ichiro said, his voice gritty like a miner ending his twelve-hour shift. Ichiro was an old man who retired from the merchant marine twenty-five years ago, forced to find work due to the inability of his pension to pay for the cost of living, and by the need in his hands to do more than hold the remote control.

Tomo walked into his office while Torako stood at the doorway. Ichiro's office was size slightly smaller than the janitor supply closet at the Tokyo Police Force headquarters. His work area was a foldable table with a forest of papers growing on it, arranged in a file system that only Ichiro could decipher.

"Hey old man," Tomo said, raising her hand in greeting. The dogs in the kennel, the next room over, barked at the sound of Tomo's voice.

"Old man," Ichiro muttered, standing up. "You ain't thrown her out yet?" he asked, looking at Torako. The grit in his voice was polished to a shine when he spoke to Torako. Tomo made a lewd wink at Torako, who ignored it with her typical skill and expertise.

"Thinking about it," Torako said. Tomo stuck out her tongue, and nearly bit it when Ichiro shoved her out of the way to talk to Torako.

"You guys are just in time. I got Monsieur Chien back yesterday," Ichiro said. "Ken needed him." Ken worked undercover in the murky narcotic hell of the Roppongi district.

"He better not have used him for drug tracking," Torako said. "We got plenty of beagles for that."

"I did a swab on him when he got back," Ichiro said. "He's clean. You know Ken's lasted a year now? That's a record. He's gotta have an iron constitution." Ichiro chuckled. "I don't even want to think how he's doing it."

"You have to be a bit of a lawbreaker yourself to survive in that environment," Torako said. "If everyone is snorting cocaine while you're drinking orange juice, well, they'll all know you're a narc pretty quick. Once you've been marked over there, that's it."

"He's one of you guys, ain't he?" Ichiro asked. His face showed blunt uncaring of mentioning the taboo police "secret" of what Tomo called the Seven-Ups.

"Yep," Torako said. "Goes through partners like Dirty Harry, though."

Ichiro creaked into the kennel area of the building. The kennel was clean and tidy, the floors in front of the pen damp from being sprayed clean. Five dogs were in their respective pens, four German Shepherds and the French Bloodhound. Plenty of sunlight came through the gang of rectangular clerestory windows running across the top of the wall. Those opened windows allowed a stiff breeze to blow through the kennel.

A series of large cubbyholes was at the end of the wall, with each dog's name marked underneath their respective slot. Ichiro reached down into Monsieur Chien's slot and pulled out his leather harness and leash.

"Man, poor Monsieur Chien must have a really hard time of it, being around those German Shepherds," Tomo said, while Ichiro opened Monsieur Chien's pen and bent down to attach his harness. Torako knew where Tomo's trainwreck of a thought was going, but she shoveled coal into it instead of hitting the breaks. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, Monsieur Chien is French," Tomo said. "Traditionally, the French don't get along with Germans. I think they fought some wars or something."

"Hmm," Torako said. "I don't think dogs recognize nationality."

"Well, how would you know? Are you a canine behavioral scientist?"

"You're an idiot," Ichiro said, as he pulled the stubborn Monsieur Chien out of his pen. Tomo flung her fists in the air and shouted, "What did you say?" at Ichiro.

The black-and-tan Monsieur Chien huffed and bounded at Tomo, wagging his tail. Tomo made playful greeting noises at Monsieur Chien while Torako scooted away along the wall. Ichiro handed the retractable leash to Tomo.

Ichiro went to an unmarked slot and grabbed a large cylindrical navy-blue duffle bag with POLICE written in white on the side. He filled it with Monsieur Chien's effects, including several beach towels for Torako to pad the back seat of the Civic. When he was finished, he handed the bag to Torako and said, "Be sure to sign him out."

...

They arrived at the apartment complex shortly before 17:00. Torako cracked the rear windows to allow Monsieur Chien some air, and he responded by sticking the tip of his snout through the crack and sniffing heavily.

"We'll hang out at my place while we wait for Osaka to show up," Tomo said, as the two walked up the steps. "Rico isn't going to be back until late tonight, so you two can't conspire to bring me down."

"I think she's already in," Torako said, pointing at the light blaring from Osaka's living room window.

"Well, we'll go to my place anyway," Tomo said. She had her key out, ready to unlock her door, when Osaka's door open and she stuck her head out.

"Hi Tomo hi Torako," Osaka said, smiling as if she was greeting two long lost relatives. "Come on in. I got some cakes and fresh tea sittin' in a pot for you two. I mean, the tea is in the pot, not the cakes. The cakes are on the table."

"Hello, and thanks," Torako said, as she walked toward Osaka's door. Tomo frowned, and lunged at Osaka's door, pushing Torako out of the way.

Tomo scraped her shoes off with the toe of each foot and stepped onto the sad brown carpet infesting the apartment complex. She stood in front of the cherry end table at the far end of Osaka's blue cloth couch, watching Torako as she took off her boots.

Tomo saw Torako's attention wander around the room, so she grabbed Torako's elbow and pulled her toward the kitchen. "Hey Osaka, let's get some of that tea," she said. Torako made a sidelong glance at Tomo.

"Okay Tomo, I'll serve you right up," Osaka said. Assured that Torako would enter the kitchen under her own cognizance, Tomo let go of her elbow and walked back to the living room. She heard the faint chatter of Torako and Osaka, and the ascending musical scale of tea pouring into a cup. While watching the entrance to the kitchen, Tomo grabbed a picture on the end table and slid it behind the couch cushion.

Tomo entered the kitchen and pulled up a chair at the round table, covered by a white tablecloth, fresh and clean, patterned with roses. Tomo poured her some tea, grabbed a teacake and stuffed it in her mouth, watching Torako and Osaka talk while she vigorously chomped.

"Well, I better get ready," Osaka said. "I need to wash that food smell off and get some clean clothes on."

"You do that," Tomo said, taking a sip of her tea. She put her cup down and saw Osaka standing next to her, a goofy smile on her face.

"Hey Tomo, you're growing your hair out," Osaka said, flipping the back of Tomo's hair.

"Yep! I'm doing it for the winter. I haven't had long hair in a while. I might need to get a straightener to keep it from pointing outward."

"Yeah, your hair was all pointy," Osaka said. "It was like a pike formation. You coulda beat up a cavalry with that hair."

"Yeah… no," Tomo said. "How about you? You going to grow yours out?"

"Yep," Osaka said, stroking her chin while Torako reached for a teacake. "But out here, I'm working on a beard."

"A beard," Tomo said, as Torako's cake paused in mid-air before being placed back in the platter. Tomo squinted at Osaka, before brightening with her flash of inspiration. "Yeah, a beard! You should grow a van dyke beard, and get glasses with thick black frames, and carry a pipe so you'll look like a professor, and everyone will think you're a genius!"

Osaka's mouth widened into a smile of simple joy, and she held up a finger in contemplation. "That's a great idea, Tomo! Aww, but it won't work." Osaka's features shriveled into despair. "I've been trying to grow a beard for years, and not even a hair will come out."

"Gee, I wonder why," Tomo said, arranging the crumbs on her plate into an angry face. "Oh well, I guess you'll just have to find another goal. Or get a fake beard."

"Hey, I know what I could do," Osaka said. "I could start gettin' them testosterone shots."

Tomo's mouth dropped as she looked up at Osaka's sincere expression of resolve, one fist held in front of her as an expression of her adamant will. "Uh… I don't think you want to do that," Tomo said. "At all."

Torako checked her watch, deciding to ignore politeness and break up their comedy routine. However, Osaka retreated to the washroom before Torako had her chance. After finishing her tea, Torako walked into Osaka's living room to check out her library. Tomo followed, holding her cup of tea.

"I had no idea Osaka was such an avid reader," Torako said, standing in front of her bookshelves.

"Yeah, weird thing about that is I don't think she ever read anything until college," Tomo said, as she took a sip of her tea.

"What did she major in, classical lit?"

Tomo shrugged. "No idea."

Torako slowly turned face Tomo, who was standing behind her. "You two were roommates for two years, and you don't know her major?"

"Hey," Tomo said, "That was years ago. I can barely remember what my major was." Tomo started flapping her hand at Torako as if she was a bothersome insect. "All that was just AHHHHH!"

Torako face made an expression of confusion, like a cashier recoiling from a customer's bizarre order. She turned her head to see the subject of Tomo's screaming.

Tomo jumped beside her and thrust her finger into the spine of a book. "That! What does that say!" Tomo said, a tinge of desperation making a quiver in her surprised voice.

Torako made a look of quiet disbelief, shown by a narrowing of her eyes and an uptick at the right corner of her lip, and turned to read the words Tomo was jabbing at.

"Wittgenstein," Torako said, frowning.

"And that!" Tomo said, thrusting her finger at another book on the other side of Torako.

Torako squinted. "Kierkegaard," she said. "Huh."

"Oh, okay," Tomo said. She made a big smile and sat down on a table next to the half wall separating the kitchen. "Those foreign names are really weird, don't you think?"

Torako didn't respond to Tomo's obvious attempts at misdirection. She pulled a book down from the shelf, Kant's _Critique of Pure Reason_. She flipped open to a random page in the middle of the book. It had yellow highlighter streaked over certain passages, jottings written in the margins of the pages, and a yellow post-it note fitted with tiny handwriting.

Torako placed it back and grabbed a book by Spinoza. A quick glance at its contents showed it to be in the same condition. "Girl's holding out on us," Torako mumbled under her breath.

Tomo had transported herself from the table to just next to Torako, her face jutting into the book. "What, find something dirty?" Torako closed the book and glanced at Tomo's grinning face. Torako's peripheral vision caught a picture frame placed face down on the table Tomo was sitting on.

Torako put the book back. "Not really," she said.

"I'm ready guys," Osaka said, as she re-entered the living room.

...

They left earlier than planned, Torako wanting to get it over with, Tomo anxious for excitement. Torako asked Osaka to sit up front, making Tomo sit in the back with Monsieur Chien. When Tomo hopped in the back seat, talking to Monsieur Chien, Torako tapped Osaka on the shoulder.

"I think I left my pocket knife in your apartment," Torako said. "May I get back in?"

"You sure can," Osaka said. She picked out the key from her set and gave it to Torako.

Torako entered the apartment, locked the door behind her, and flicked on the light. She walked to the table Tomo had sat on and flipped up the picture frame. In it was a picture of Tomo and Osaka at what looked to be Nagoya castle. They were dressed for fall weather, and Torako hazarded a guess that they were college age here, maybe second year, since Osaka was in it. Between them was a dark tanned girl with a high-octane grin, one arm around Tomo, who was flashing a peace sign, and the other around Osaka, who was delivering her patented goofy smile. The dark tanned girl looked familiar to Torako. She searched her memory, but couldn't place her. No time for that anyway, she thought, and she put the picture face up on the table.

Torako walked over to the couch and reached behind the cushion, grabbing another picture in a frame. Tomo, Osaka, and the familiar looking dark skinned girl were in this one, along with three others. They were all wearing high school uniforms, holding their diplomas. She put the picture back on the couch's end table and left Osaka's apartment, locking up behind her.


	8. Chapter 8

Like a peeping tom, the setting sun sneaked glimpses through the gaps in the high rises at the maroon civic. Torako maneuvered the car with the same assurance and skill people had come to expect from the Tiger, but her constant checking of the rearview and side mirrors betrayed a tired professional walking on the tightrope of recycled adrenaline and frayed nerves. Only her willpower kept her balanced.

Next to her was Osaka, friend and registered civilian assistant to the police, ready to perform her simple duty of taking a trained scent hound to the room of a murder scene. She had dressed down in a pair of dark blue jeans and a thin black jacket, a change for a woman who usually preferred dresses. While not necessarily a chatterbox, she was uncharacteristically quiet as she watched the play outside of her window, performed by tired workers going home, cars passing by, and large buildings made red and gold by the slow demise of the day's sun.

"Hey, are we there yet? I need to pee," Tomo said. She squirmed in the back seat, pressed against the door. The French Bloodhound Monsieur Chien, folding his paws underneath his body after tiring of Tomo grabbing them and making them dance to her rendition of a Round Table song, occupied the rest of the backseat.

Torako downshifted. "Do you really need to go pee, or are you being a nuisance?"

"Hey, I'm not a nuisance!" Tomo said. "I really do have to pee."

"Hold on to the dog," Torako said, and Tomo barely had time to hold down Chien while Torako made a sharp right into a service station. She pulled neatly into a parking space. "Make it quick," she said, but Tomo had already left the car.

...

Tomo came back to the car carrying a plastic bag. She jumped in with enough force to make the placid Monsieur Chien lift his head.

"I got us some drinks," Tomo said. The instant the latch clicked on Tomo's door, Torako reversed out into the street and shifted into drive, squealing the tires and leaving behind a wisp of oily smoke.

"Geez Torako," Tomo said. "At least wait for me to put on my belt."

Torako accelerated through a yellow light. "It's going to rain tonight," she said. "If Chien makes the scent, it'll wash away before he gets the chance to track it outside. We got to get there now."

Tomo leaned forward and put a soft drink on Osaka's shoulder. Osaka, while still looking out of the window, reached over her shoulder and took the drink. "Thank you, Tomo," she said, her breath fogging the window.

Tomo put a can of juice on Torako's shoulder. Torako grabbed the can and slammed it down into her cup holder.

Tomo frowned and leaned forward into Torako's ear. "Stop," she said. "You're acting like a jerk again."

"Sorry," Torako said through closed teeth. "Thanks for the drink."

"You better thank me," Tomo said, as she leaned back in her seat. She laid her left arm on top of the seat, and took a sip from her bottle of milk tea with her free hand while Monsieur Chien stretched his head toward Tomo's drink and sniffed. "We've got nothing to worry about," Tomo said, pushing Monsieur Chien's head away. "This will be too easy. I mean, I wouldn't have got Osaka involved if I knew it was going to be dangerous."

"Awful considerate, Tomo," Osaka said, her window fogging again.

A secret border was crossed, and no welcoming sign was needed to advertise it.

"We're in Ueno now," Torako said. She twirled the knob on the car's police radio until it hit the Ueno police frequency. "If you see anything suspicious, tell me. Don't worry about being too careful."

"Ha," Tomo said. "You're careful enough for the three of us. Four, actually." She rubbed Monsieur Chien's head.

Osaka slowly turned her head away from her window, her eyes bright and smiling. "This is almost like a noir," Osaka said. "That means I'm hard boiled."

"Nah, it's not like that at all," Tomo said. She leaned over into Osaka's ear and said, "Don't make Torako anymore paranoid. It's just a simple recon mission."

"Can the back talk, Nancy," Osaka said, making her voice deep and scratchy to sound like Bogart. "Or I'll treat you to a little chin music. The five finger symphony, to be precise."

"Ugh, stop talking like that," Tomo said. "And don't call me Nancy."

"Heh heh, sorry," Osaka said. Some blather came through on the police radio. They listened to it in silence, making sure it wasn't about them.

"So, how paranoid do I have to be?" Osaka asked.

"Not at all," Torako said. "That's our job."

"That's your job, you mean," Tomo said. "I'm not worried."

"So you say," Torako muttered. No one heard her.

...

Torako pulled into the hotel's guest parking lot and parked near the street. A recon of the area revealed no cops, uniformed or otherwise. The police radio, set to the Ueno district frequency, had remained silent on the subject of an out-of-ward police vehicle driving through Ueno (although there had been some drama concerning a naked man running through the Ameyoko shopping center). Torako, careful to not park underneath a streetlight, pulled the trunk release latch. The four got out of the car like a synchronized swimming team, performing to the sickly pipe whistle music of the opening trunk.

Torako dug through the cavernous trunk while Tomo held the leather leash leading to Monsieur Chien, who snorted and shook himself. Osaka milled around behind them. She looked up at the granite building, the monotony of its grey surface only broken up by the yellow light escaping from several windows.

"Whoa," Osaka said, appraising the building like a buyer at an auction full of farm equipment. She shaded her eyes despite the sun having already disappeared over the horizon. "It's like it could fall on top of ya at any moment!" Osaka closed her eyes, and goofy smile broke across her face.

Tomo put her free arm around Osaka's shoulders. "It's not going to fall over, so stop imagining it. It'd kill us anyway."

Osaka looked at Tomo, blasting her with a broad open-mouthed smile. "Well, we could stand where the windows are."

"Those windows don't open, dummy," Tomo said, holding her hand at the building like an M.C. introducing the latest vaudeville act. "We'd still get killed."

"Not if Torako gets her gun out in time," Osaka said, making her point by holding up her finger like a cheap political analyst. "She could shoot them out while it falls, and we could run under them."

"Yeah, that is a good point," Tomo said. She cupped her chin in thought. "Of course, there'd be broken glass falling toward us, but I could pull my bokken out and swat them away."

"You guys get over here," Torako said. She reached into the trunk and opened Monsieur Chien's duffle bag, grabbing a stab-proof police vest, custom made for the French Bloodhound who had a much broader chest than the Akita Inus and German Shepherds making up the K9 force of the Tokyo Police. "Here," she said, tossing it to Tomo. "Put that on him."

"Why are you telling me what to do?" Tomo said, picking the vest off the ground. "We're partners, remember? That means we're equals."

Torako picked up a human sized stab-proof vest from the trunk, stuffing a pair of vinyl gloves in one of its spare pouches. She took a miniature GPS unit from Monsieur Chien's duffle bag and turned it on. She glanced at the pugnacious Tomo before turning her attention to Osaka.

"Could you put this on, please?" Torako asked, holding the police vest to Osaka.

"Sure I can," Osaka said, as she took the vest.

Tomo mumbled promises of violence while hooking the police vest around Monsieur Chien's chest. Monsieur Chien stood at attention while Tomo fastened the bright blue fabric around him, POLICE written in reflective tape on the back. Osaka put her vest on with minimal fuss, the back and front emblazoned with the same reflective message of POLICE. When she had finished, Tomo handed her Monsieur Chien's leash, and walked toward the open trunk, rubbing her hands.

"This is a tracking device for Chien," Torako said, holding the GPS toward Osaka. The bright light of the GPS screen projected a simple street map on Osaka's face, with a red dot in the middle of her forehead like a sniper's target. "His vest has an inbuilt tracker that supposedly works up to a hundred kilometers. If he gets away, use that to find him."

"Okay," Osaka said, her face taking a serious turn, with downturned eyebrows and a pressed bottom lip. She put the GPS in a spare pouch, and snapped it shut.

"Make sure your ID badge is up front," Torako said. She turned her heard, eyed an elderly couple putting a large suitcase onto a cart, and decided they were okay before looking back at Osaka.

Osaka grabbed the string around her neck holding the ID badge, and pulled it in front of her vest. She accidentally grabbed a simple chain necklace she was wearing under her shirt. At the end of it were two gold bands, which she cusped and quickly stuffed back into her shirt. She turned her head away from Torako's gaze.

"Hold on, don't make her do that," Tomo said, her words echoing as she bent over the cavernous trunk. "They don't need to see her ID. The police vest should be enough."

"Yeah, let's keep that hidden," Torako said, as Osaka put her ID badge back underneath her vest.

"What if they ask to see it?" Osaka said.

"Point to the words on your vest and tell them to stop interfering with police work," Tomo said. She arose from the trunk holding a blue box with analog readouts, knobs, and a number pad. Piled on top of that was a cylindrical satellite with a long, thick, curled cord and a simple pair of headphones. She walked to the front passenger side of the car, opened the door, and sat down. She put the satellite on the dashboard and plugged the box's power adapter into the cigarette lighter. The readouts lit up, the headphones crackled, and Tomo started twisting some knobs.

Torako pulled out two heavy-duty radios from the trunk, and shut it. She clipped the smaller of the two to her belt. She used her free hand to unsnap the shoulder strap on Osaka's vest. She worked the strap into the clip of the larger radio, and snapped the strap back into place. She pressed the power button on Osaka's radio, and the power light lit red.

"Yours is two-way," Torako said, "so you don't have to push any buttons to talk or hear." Torako stepped back from Osaka and powered on her radio. She pressed the send button and Osaka's radio answered with a faint, airy hiss.

"Okay Osaka," Torako said, speaking into her radio. Her growly tenor came out of Osaka's radio. "Say something back."

"What do I say?" Osaka asked, her voice rising out of Torako's radio. "Wow, do I really sound like that? I sound funny."

"That'll work, thanks," Torako said.

Tomo's head appeared over the roof of the car, headphones hanging around her neck. "Good on this end," she said. She thrust a thumbs up at Torako and Osaka, knocking her off balance and slamming her butt first into the asphalt parking lot. "Ouch," she said, not so much a cry of pain as it was an announcement.

Torako reached into the side pocket of her brown leather American fighter jacket, a risqué choice even in a Japan nearly seventy years removed from the war. She pulled out the two evidence bags, one holding the green thread and the other holding the black coat button. She handed them over to Osaka. "Put these in one of those pouches," Torako said, pointing at the police vest. Osaka took the two bags and unsnapped a pouch. "When you get to the room, put on the vinyl gloves, which are here," she said, tapping a buttoned pouch to Osaka's left, "and hold the materials in your hand. Have Monsieur Chien sniff them. He'll know what to do after that."

Torako took a deep breath, and exhaled. She patted Osaka on her shoulder. "Okay," she said. "We say abort, you leave immediately. You get into any trouble or any physical confrontation-"

"I say tacos," Osaka said.

"…okay, that'll be fine," Torako said. "Tacos. We'll be right up to get you." Torako sighed again. "Good luck."

Osaka held up her hand in salute, smiling a cute, reassuring smile. "Roger wilco," she said, and her and Monsieur Chien headed toward the entrance of the hotel. Torako leaned next to the door of the civic, and went through the motions of lighting a cigarette.

Tomo rolled down the window. "Your drink's going to get warm and gross if you don't drink it now."

...

The chirping voice of the desk receptionist came through Tomo's headphones, accepting a cancelled reservation from a customer who sounded like he expected a difficult confrontation. Tomo glanced over at the hotel, but could only see Torako's scrawny behind and cigarette smoke. Tomo reached over to roll up the window, but Torako opened the door and sat down. Her right hand held the lighted cigarette outside.

"Eh? You're going to smoke inside?" Tomo said, her eyes darting from the cigarette to Torako.

"Leaning against a car, watching a building and smoking probably won't look good," Torako said. She pulled the cigarette to her lips and inhaled. She turned her head toward the open window and exhaled, a plume of smoke rising into the dark sky.

Osaka's downy voice came through her radio as she spoke to a clerk, asking permission to enter the room.

"Anything?" Torako said, nodding at the blue box.

"Nothing about us," Tomo said. "You going to drink that?"

"Nah, you can have it," Torako said. Tomo grabbed the lukewarm bottle of milk tea and unscrewed the cap, taking long, loud gulps.

"Deputy Osaka reporting," Osaka said. "Permission has been granted to search the premises."

Torako lifted the radio to her mouth and pressed the send button. "Roger," she said.

"Boy, Osaka sure is official sounding," Tomo said. The creamy foam liquid of her milk tea marked a border in the middle of the bottle.

"She's enjoying herself," Torako said. "She gets to play spy."

"See? It was a good idea to get her to come along." Tomo reared back, the bottle at her lips, ready to finish it off for all time.

"So," Torako said, "Osaka was married."

Tomo gagged, and milk tea sputtered out of her nose and mouth. "Dammit, Torako," Tomo said. "You did that on purpose." She put the tea in the spare cup holder and opened the glove compartment, pushing away an old dirty ball to grab a stack of napkins to clean her mouth and shirt.

"She had a necklace with two gold bands," Torako said. "Her and her husband's. I'm guessing she's a widow, huh?"

Tomo vigorously wiped her face like she was trying to remove her skin. She balled up the damp napkin and grabbed another from the fresh stack sitting on her knee.

"She has a picture of him in her bedroom," Tomo said, rubbing her shirt. "Aw man, I hate when this happens." Tomo picked off little bits of napkin from her shirt. "They look like tiny worms. You need higher quality napkins in here."

"You need to learn how to drink," Torako said. "So… Osaka."

"Yeah," Tomo said. Her headphones buzzed, and Tomo said "Wait." She listened to the chirpy receptionist, and then the call ended.

"I have the key card to the room now," Osaka said over the radio. "I'm going to the room."

Torako spoke into the radio. "They're not going to escort you?"

"Naw," Osaka said. "I mean, no ma'am. She said no one wants to go up there. The police didn't clean the room properly."

"Huh," Tomo said, balling up her last napkin and dropping it in the empty bottle of milk tea. "I wonder why? Well, score one for us. That'll make Monsieur Chien's job that much easier."

"Thank you, officer," Torako said. "Continue as planned." She put the radio down and said, "Osaka being married. Did you know about it?"

"I kinda figured," Tomo said, fidgeting her leg like a jackhammer. "Just some vibes I picked up."

"And you didn't ask her," Torako said.

"Well, no," Tomo said, flinging away the idea with a flick of her hand. "I already told you, I don't ask about her past-"

The police radio buzzed, and the two listened to the dispatcher narrate the continuing tale of a drunk naked man terrorizing shoppers.

"You know, this is a real conundrum," Torako said, when the report was finished.

"I hate that word. Don't use it anymore."

"It's a conundrum because you're in a job that requires difficult, searching questions, questions that are painful to ask and painful to answer. You aren't asking them. She's your friend, and you don't even want to know what happened to her. Why is that?"

"If she wanted to tell me, she'd tell me," Tomo said. "Why are you being such a pain? I mean, I don't ask what you do at all those gay bars on the weekend, do I?"

Torako's eyes narrowed, and her mouth tightened. "I'm not falling for that. Does any of this… this not asking her… have to do with those pictures you tired to hide from me?"

It was dark inside the car, the only illumination being from Torako's lit cigarette, the green illumination of the readout on Tomo's blue box, and the tiny red power button on the radio. The rising moon was blocked by the overcast clouds in the sky.

And yet, Torako could see Tomo's face clearly, as if it cast its own light. Tomo had an expression Torako had never seen before, and it chilled her to the core. It was if Legion had found something besides a herd of swine to possess. The air in the car became suffocating and stagnant, like ancient congealed wind blowing past archeologists opening Pharaoh's tomb.

Tomo spoke, but it was not her voice. It was if a lost door, deep underground, had been opened, and some primeval being, asleep for millennia, awoke and decided to speak.

"We will never discuss this again," Tomo said. A simple, unassuming statement delivered as if from a prophet of death.

Torako felt cold hard steel meshed with warm rubber, and realized, without thinking, that she had reached for her gun. She slowly removed her hand, not once taking her eyes off Tomo. Osaka was saying something over the radio, but Torako didn't hear it.

Torako pointed at herself, to her face. "Who do you see?"

Tomo's eyes crisscrossed in confusion before answering in her own voice, lightening as the outside controller slipped away.

"Torako," she said.

Still pointing, Torako said, "Torako. Your partner. You can trust me with your life."

"I know all that," Tomo said. She sat deep into her seat as if sinking into a feather mattress, facing the windshield into the outside of dark sky and streetlights. She rubbed her face with both hands, as if removing sleep. "I just don't want to think about it right now," she said, distant and muffled like a long distance phone call.

"Okay," Torako said. Her hand reached out to touch Tomo's forehead, but she pulled away and picked up her radio instead.

"Could you repeat that?" she said.

"I got the card key," Osaka said. "I'm going over to the escalators."

"They have escalators?"

"…elevators," Osaka said.

"Roger," Torako said, and when she put the radio back into the drink holder, she saw the manic smiling Tomo, invigorated like a field of dandelions after much needed rain.

"Oh, and when you asked me who I saw, I meant to say 'a lesbian', because that's totally what I see. And don't think I didn't see you trying to touch me. Pervert."

Torako's frown made another frown, piling disbelief and irritation on top of each other. She pulled in her hand and took another drag from her cigarette.

Osaka's voice came through the radio. "Okay, I'm in the elevator and Monsieur Chien is in the elevator and we're in the elevator together. I just hit the number three button, and it lit up yellow like it's a firefly, but who would paint a number on a firefly? I bet that's against firefly union rules. Now the elevator's moving. Let's see… still first floor… first floor… okay, now it's the second floor… second floor…"

Tomo snatched the radio. "Osaka, you don't have to narrate every little thing you do. Just the important stuff."

"…Nancy squawked over the blower," Osaka said in her Bogart voice. Torako made a half smile while Tomo's narrowed eyes and curled lip could only be described as a look of disgust.

"She's a pushy dame," Osaka said, "and one day she's gonna flap her gums at the wrong hood. Somebody will buy her concrete boots, and before you know it, Neptune's got himself a new daughter."

"You're right," Torako said to Tomo. "Bringing her along was a good idea."

The elevator made a brassy ding when its doors opened, and Osaka, in her normal voice, said "Okay guys, I'm on the floor. Going to the room."

"She dropped the professional act pretty quick," Tomo said. "I knew she couldn't keep it up."

Tomo held the radio, staring at it as if it had a view screen. Torako stared at the dark hotel, as if she could see Osaka through the walls. Eventually, they heard the squeaky sound of flimsy plastic sliding through a card reader, and then the squeak and whine of the door opening.

"Propping it open," Osaka said. She made a grunt of exertion, and then said, "Wow, that receptionist was right. I can see a faint blood stain. Okay, getting the evidence and maybe Chien will commence to sniffin'."

"Glad you don't have to go up there?" Tomo said, diverting her attention from the radio to her partner.

"Yeah," Torako said. "I was dreading it." She sighed and looked at Tomo. "I've broken more procedures these past couple of nights than I have in my entire career."

"Oh, that's nothing," Tomo said. She thumped herself on her chest. "I've been breaking procedures since day one."

"You're proud of that?"

"Well, yeah," Tomo said. "It means I'm indispensible, if you think about it. A lesser detective would've long since been given the old heave-ho, but my talents are so vast that they let me get away with anything."

"I doubt that's the case," Torako said, straight lipped.

"Well, it's no big deal, anyway," Tomo said. "So don't let it get to you."

Torako looked around the parking lot. "It's some ethical stuff too. I've lied too much."

"Deception is part of the job," Tomo said, bright and sunny like it was the most wonderful facet to police work. "As long as you're doing it for justice and to protect the innocent, it's completely okay."

"Heh," Torako said. "I signed up for the traffic division anyway. I only wanted to drive fast cars and chase after speedsters. Glad I was able to do that for about five years."

Both of Tomo's eyebrows raised in query. "You were in traffic? Why did you move to investigation?"

"They didn't… you don't know?"

"Hey Torako, Torako!" Osaka said. Torako took the radio from Tomo and answered, "Torako here."

"Hey Torako, did Ms. Ayase speak English?"

"Um, no," Torako said. "She didn't when I knew her."

"Oh, okay," Osaka said. "I guess that wasn't her ghost, then."

"What? Ghost?" Tomo shouted, and Torako winced. Tomo snatched the radio from Torako's hand. "Did you say ghost?"

"Yep," Osaka said. "It floated through the bathroom wall, said some stuff in English, and then disappeared. I hope it flushed, because I just don't want to think about it."

"English?" Tomo said. "What did it say?"

"Something about… wire hangers?"

"Wire hangers?" Tomo said. She took turns looking at Torako and the radio, like the ill-equipped third participant of a Mexican standoff. "What does that mean?"

They heard a hollow snort. "Whoa, Chien's got something," Osaka said. Torako took the radio from Tomo and held it close to her ear. "He's coming out into the hall." They heard thick, heavy stomps and light padding, along with an occasional low growl from Monsieur Chien.

"Crap, I dropped my cigarette," Torako said, arcing her head over the door. "I'll get it later," she said, and rolled up her window.

A heavy door opened, and it made a creaking, mechanical sound. "Okay, we're on the back stairwell," Osaka said. "He's leading me downstairs."

"That goes out to the service entrance," Torako said into the radio. "We'll meet you there."

Torako put the radio into the cup holder and buckled her seat belt. She was going to tell Tomo to buckle up, but saw her stiffen and widen her eyes.

"Tomo?"

Torako heard a rapping sound right next to her head. She turned and saw a uniformed officer tapping his wooden nightstick on the driver side window. He was not smiling.

Torako rolled down the window. She could not show hesitation, but Tomo's deer in the headlights act was going to make the cop suspicious... as if the blue box and police radio weren't.

"Good evening officer," Torako said.

"Evening ladies," the policeman said. "Are you two having a good night?"

"Yes," Torako said.

"No," Tomo said.

The policeman made a mirthless chuckle, out of politeness. He shined the flashlight into the cockpit of the car. It rested on Tomo's phone box.

"Okay guys, we're outside," Osaka said. "Where are you?" Torako reached down and twisted the volume knob. It made a click, and the red power light went out.

"What was that?" the policeman said.

"Friend of ours," Torako said. The policeman shined the light on the radio sitting in the cup holder. He then moved it back toward the box sitting in Tomo's lap.

"I'm just a beat officer, ladies," the policeman said. "So I don't have access to the nice things rich folks get. Not on my salary. But I'm not stupid, and I know what a phone tapping box looks like. You, ma'am, have a nice high model one." He shined the light on the cylindrical satellite sitting on the dashboard. "And it's turned on. From my understanding, that sort of behavior is significantly less than legal. Do we have a consensus on that?"

"Yes sir," Torako said. A border of perspiration formed at her hairline.

"Good," the policeman said. "Now, having established that, I must ask; what are you two ladies doing with all of that equipment?"

"We're pulling a prank!" Tomo said, like an elementary student at recess. "Our friend is staying at that hotel, see, and we decided to make him think his hotel room is haunted."

"Yes sir," Torako said. "That girl on the radio was a friend of ours, and she was hiding the equipment in his room."

"Yeah! We borrowed this," Tomo said, patting the box, "to hack into his hotel room phone and cell phone, to prevent him from calling outside people. See, we're going to use a voice modulator to trick him."

The policeman was winning the frowning competition between him and Torako. He shined the light on the driver.

"Ma'am, if you could, please step out of the car."

Torako reached for the door handle and opened the door. She stepped out into the cool air, painfully aware of the gun strapped in her holster. She put her hands on the roof of the car.

"Ma'am, what are you doing? Turn around."

Torako turned around, her hands at her side.

"Show me your pack of cigarettes."

The words were heard, but they travelled slowly through Torako's ears to her brain. She reached into her jacket and grabbed the pack of cigarettes, holding it out the policeman like an offering at a temple.

"I don't want them," the policeman said. "Take one out and show it to me."

Torako did what she was told.

"You see that?" the policeman said, shining his light on the cigarette.

"Yes sir."

"Good. You see this?" the policeman said, shining his light on an extinguished butt lying on the ground. "They're the same brand, aren't they?"

A hopeful realization hit Torako, and her swampy feelings of despair were slowly drained away.

"Yes sir, that's mine," Torako said.

"I know it's yours," the policeman said. "I saw you smoke it and drop it out of the window. That's littering. You are aware that littering is illegal, correct?"

"Yes sir."

"Then why did you do it? Listen, I like a good smoke myself, but I know to properly dispose of the butts. What you did, besides being illegal, is unsanitary and a potential fire hazard."

"It was an accident, sir," Torako said. "I dropped it by accident."

The policeman sighed, and his perpetual frown began to crack. "Listen, I don't want to run paperwork on you lovely ladies for littering and phone tapping, especially with how polite you've been. My shift is almost over, and I got pork cutlets waiting for me. So, how about you pick up your mess and be on your way?"

"Yes sir," Torako said, and she bent down to pick up the butt. She sat back into the car and unscrewed Tomo's empty bottle of milk tea, dropping the butt on top of Tomo's balled up wet napkins.

"Sorry to ruin your prank," the policeman said, bending over the open window, "but I just saved you some jail time for illegal wiretapping, not to mention a fine for littering. Now be on your way." The policeman tipped his hat, and walked down the sidewalk, his back to the front of the car.

Torako started the car, and when the window was rolled up all the way, Tomo blasted a powerful exhalation of relief.

"No way!" she said. She pressed her hands against her chest. "How the hell did we get out of that? And you," she said, smirking at Torako in toothy derision, "what was with that "yes sir officer sir" act? You act all tough, but you're soft inside."

Torako put the car in reverse. "One of us remained calm," Torako said, hitting the gas. "The other froze like a punk." Torako said punk in English, her emphasis making it sound like a ratty stereo speaker with the bass set too high.

"Who you calling a punk?" Tomo said. "I was the one that got us out of that situation. You started it with your stupid cigarette smoking. Oh whatever, let's get Osaka."

"How did he not see the car's police radio?" Torako said.

"Because he wasn't shining his light at the dashboard, he was shining it at our laps, the old pervert."

Tomo grabbed the hand radio while Torako drove through the parking lot to the service entrance, at the back of the hotel.

"Osaka? Come in," Tomo said. She released the button, and waited. "Osaka," she said, "where are you? Status, please."

Torako reached the service entrance, but no one was there.

"Where is she?" Tomo said. She opened her door.

"Tomo, wait," Torako said, but Tomo had already stepped out.

"Osaka? Where are you? Osaka?" Tomo was shouting in the radio now, her voice cracking with mounting hysteria. Torako stepped out and walked toward her.

"Tomo, hold on," she said.

"Where is she?" Tomo said. "What if that cop was sent to distract us so they could kidnap her? Why did I get her involved?" Tomo paced in front of the service entrance. She shouted "Osaka!" into her silent radio.

"Tomo, calm down, you need-"

"Shut up!" Tomo said. "This is your fault! Your stupid-"

Torako reached over and twisted the volume knob on the radio. It made a sharp click, and the power light next to the antennae lit red.

Tomo, standing still and looking at Torako's grimace, pressed the send button and said, "Osaka? You there?"

"Speaking?" said Osaka.

"You know who it is!" Tomo said, shouting into the radio as if it was an extension of Osaka herself. "Status report! Where are you?"

"Um, I'm not sure, Chien is jerking his leash around, I can barely hold on."

"Let's get in the car," Torako said, moving toward the driver's seat. Tomo followed her, watching the radio instead of her steps. She didn't see Torako's ready-made grimace. "This is my side," she said.

Tomo walked around to the passenger side and got in. "Okay, well, what about landmarks? What do you see?" she said. Torako sped out into the street.

"Well, there's a street," said Osaka, "and people, and cars, and I see buildings-"

"No good!" Tomo said. She squinted in confusion. "Wait… you have a GPS, pull it out and tell us what it says."

The dashboard police radio squawked with a new report. It described two females in a maroon Honda Civic Type-R parked in front of a hotel engaging in suspicious behavior. Officers were advised to use caution, as they were armed.

"Shit," Torako said. "He reported us anyway."

"How the hell did he know you have a gun?" Tomo said. Osaka's voice came back over the handheld radio, reporting the coordinates her GPS unit read.

"I don't know," Torako said, while Tomo punched Osaka's coordinates into the car's GPS unit. "I guess he saw it flash when I stepped out of the car." Torako cocked her head, searching for the memory. "No, I kept it hidden. I know it."

"Did someone else report it?" Tomo gestured at the police radio. "Did she say our license plate number?"

"I didn't hear it," Torako said. "He would've reported-"

"There!" Tomo said, pointing at the GPS. "There they are!" Torako made a left and sped down a side street, on the way to meet Osaka and Chien's reported location.

"Hey guys," Osaka said, "I see trees and stuff now. I think we're getting near a park."

Tomo decreased magnification on the GPS unit in the car, and a large, green blotch appeared next to the mass of concrete grey.

"Ueno Park," Tomo said. Into the radio, she said "Osaka, give us your coordinates again."

The windshield began to mist, and Torako turned on the wipers.

...

The civic parked away from the streetlights, in an alley meant for walking instead of driving. Near them was Ueno Station, and they could hear the harsh rushing wind of trains rattling over tracks, intermingling with the sounds of traffic and talking people.

Tomo and Torako ran up the steps of a pedestrian walkway over Chuo Dori, a busy neon lit street that snaked here as a border between buildings and grass before returning deep into the district. They pushed through pedestrians on the walkway, mostly young lovers watching the cars passing below. Tomo held the radio and Torako held the GPS unit, now detached from its holder. The two were served with glances of annoyance by the couples they ran through, who then quickly went back to their romantic gazing and spoken promises of everlasting fidelity.

Tomo and Torako hit the bottom of the steps and jumped the simple guardrail separating the sidewalk from the park. They landed on soft spongy grass. The smell of sweet freshwater from Shinobazu pond intermingled with the deep dirt smell of the lightly dampened grass.

"Um, we're next to a statue," Osaka said. "He's smelling a bench."

"This way," Torako said. "I know exactly where she is."

"I hope it's close," Tomo said, wheezing between each word. "I can't keep this up."

They both slowed to a jog when they hit the concrete walkway, the statue now coming into view beneath the shallow light of a lamppost. Several men, their faces grizzled with stubble and carved with evidence of difficult living, sat on the curb of the walkway. They did not even give the running cops a precursory glance, as they were either looking at days past or trying not to look at the bleak future.

"I see them!" Tomo said, pointing. Osaka waved, while Chien paced around a bench, the reflective tape on their vests shining their message of POLICE.

Tomo and Torako slowed down and stopped in front of Osaka. Tomo bent down and grasped her knees, her heavy breathing causing her shirt to expand and constrict like a manual air pump.

"How did-" Tomo wheezed. "Did you… wait." She held up a hand before bringing it back down on her knees. She stood up straight, still wheezing, and bent down again.

Torako was controlling her breathing, which wasn't near as severe as Tomo's violent sucking of oxygen. "You're out of shape," Torako said.

"You… smoke," Tomo said. She stood up and wiped the sweat and mist from her forehead with her sleeve.

"Well Osaka," Torako said, "what's the deal?"

"He's been sniffin' around this bench for awhile now," Osaka said. Her damp bangs pasted themselves to her forehead by a mixture of light perspiration and mist. "He's stopped a couple of times to look up at me before he starts sniffing again."

"The scent ends here, then," Torako said. "That's enough Chien, good work." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a doggy treat. Chien sat on his haunches and lifted his nose in the air. Torako dropped the snack, and Chien snapped his jaws shut around it. He chewed the morsel, wagging his tail.

"How far away are we?" Tomo said.

Torako wiped the mist off the GPS view screen and enlarged the map. It showed a pinpoint arrow for the hotel. "A little over three kilometers," Torako said. She looked at Osaka. "That was quite a walk."

"Yeah, but it's okay," Osaka said. "I saw a policeman walking around the entrance, though, but he nodded at me and let me on through."

"Good," Torako said. "Good work Osaka." Osaka smiled in response.

Torako walked around to the front of the statue, encased behind an iron gate. It was Saigo Takimori, dressed as the Samurai he was, holding the leash to his dog. Torako reached for a cigarette to aid her in contemplation, but decided against it, due to the combination of falling mist and Osaka.

"Why would he stop here," Torako said.

"Maybe Monsieur Chien is related to that dog," Osaka said, pointing to the statue of Takimori's dog.

"Dummy," Tomo said, her breathing having returned to near normal levels. "She means the murderer."

"Or Asagi," Torako said, rubbing her chin. "We don't know for sure which scent Chien picked up."

Tomo stood next to Torako, and Osaka joined them. Chien grumbled as he followed, and elected to sit on the concrete. The three peered up at the bronze statue of the man and his dog.

"Well," Tomo said. "Now what?"

Torako covered her face with her hand. "Dunno," she said, her voice muffled through her palm. She lowered her hand, rubbing her face. She sniffled, and started looking around, craning her neck like a nosy worker in a cubicle.

She looked to her side and squinted at the now empty curb.

"Where'd they go?" Torako said, indicating the curb with a flick of her hand.

"Who knows?" Tomo said, looking at the empty curb. "Why does it matter?"

"There," Torako said, pointing down a lane to the retreating backs of the men. "They're homeless, probably live here. May have seen something. Let's follow them." Torako jogged off down the walkway before Tomo or Osaka could respond.

"Not more running," Tomo said, groaning. She headed after Torako.

"Hey, Tomo," Osaka said. Tomo turned around and saw Osaka leaning away from Chien, pulling the leash like she was the anchor in a battle of tug-o-war. Chien was sitting on the ground, his collar moving his jowls with each tug of the leash.

"I think he's done for the day," Osaka said.

"Okay, stay here," Tomo said. "Let us know if something happens." She ran after Torako, her shoes crunching the fallen brown leaves covering the paved walkway.

...

"There's something up ahead," Tomo said, as she and Torako pushed their way deep into a clump of trees. They saw low wattage light bulbs shining on blue tarp. "A homeless community."

Tomo caught up with Torako and grabbed her arm. "Torako, our car's been reported, remember? We need to get out of here. We can do this another day."

Torako pulled her arm away from Tomo. "Let's just ask," she said, before running into the blue roofed village.

"Aw, come on," Tomo said, following behind.

They stepped into the small clearing, jammed next to a security fence blocking the view of the street. They could hear the traffic on the other side.

This was a large community, deep off the pathway for visitors to Ueno Park. At least twelve shelters, made of blue tarp, were arranged in an orderly, grid-like fashion. Christmas lights were draped around several of the shelters, and a wire was hanging across the main street, zig-zagging between the tarp tents, light bulbs dangling down the middle.

They people they could see were all men. One was sitting on an old park bench, liberated from when Ueno Park installed new benches. Next to him were several of his belongings, including a notebook made black with his scrawling. He had taped an umbrella to the bench to keep the mist from ruining the pages.

Noise came from a large open tarp near the end of the main street, huddled up next to the security wall. The sound of people talking and laughing came from it, as well as the smell of rice and green tea.

"It's like a restaurant," Tomo said.

The two walked down the center street. The people outside ignored them. Inside the café five people sat on old futons and mattresses surrounding a palate of cardboard laid in the center, which served as the communal dining table. Bowls of rice and tea were scattered in front of the diners.

Tomo and Torako were ignored here, too. Torako sat on an unoccupied futon, and gazed at a man she recognized as having sat on the curb, a gangly, sinewy young man. His thick, oily black hair was covered by a faded Giants cap. The conversation faded into silence, the patrons only concentrating on their rice and tea. The smells of the food intermingled with the stale smell of sweat, and the only sound was the tiny prickling percussion of mist tapping the roof, like a bored student tapping his finger on his desk.

In the back, a middle age man sat over a makeshift kitchen of pots, Bunsen burners, and a grill with a pot sitting on top. He was wearing a white t-shirt and black pants. He came out into the café and faced Tomo and Torako, keeping a respectful distance.

"I hope you'll pardon the silent act," the man said. "Women don't come here, so this is rather awkward. I can serve you rice and tea, if you'd like."

"I'll take some," Tomo said, raising her hand. She reached into her pocket, but the cook waved both hands at her, shaking his head.

"No money," he said. "On the house."

"I'm looking for answers," Torako said, addressing the group eating their food. "I'm looking for a woman who was murdered three days ago. She may have come here the night she was killed. In front of Takimori statue."

The men continued eating. The cook concentrated on fixing Tomo her rice.

Torako unsnapped a pocket on her fighter jacket, and pulled out a folded piece of glossy paper. She unfolded it, and it was an 8 x 12 of a still living Asagi Ayase. She placed it on the cardboard table.

"This is the last picture we could find of her alive," Torako said. "She pretty much looked the same when she died. Have any of you seen her? I only need a simple yes or no answer."

Yet again, the patrons ate and drank in silence.

"Have you seen anyone, any suspicious behavior, in front of the statue?" Torako said.

The cook came and laid out a bowl of rice with chopsticks and a cup of tea in front of Tomo. He did so without comment.

"Thank you," Tomo said, as if the cook was the head chef at a five star restaurant. She clasped her palms in front of her, closed her eyes, bowed her head, and moved her lips in silent blessing. A second later she poured the green tea into the bowl, grabbed the chopsticks, and began shoveling the rice into her mouth.

The people at the table turned their heads and gaped at the brazen disregard of table manners and shameless display of gluttony. The cook only raised his eyebrows.

Tomo leaned her head back and poured the rest of the rice into her mouth. She slammed the bowl down onto the cardboard.

"Damn fine meal," she said. "My compliments to the chef."

The cook smiled and bowed his head. "Thank you ma'am," he said. "I'm honored."

Tomo smiled back and surveyed the group of men staring at her. "What?" she said. "I was hungry." She looked at Torako, who only had grim dissatisfaction. She picked up Asagi's picture and folded it methodically before putting it back into her side pocket.

"Let's go," Torako said, like a defeated general returning home in disgrace. "This is it."

Torako stood up, and Tomo followed. They left the community and headed back into the clump of trees separating it from the rest of the park.

"Listen," Tomo said. "We can try another day. You came on kind of hard back there."

"Don't worry about it," Torako said. "What are the odds of them seeing someone in front of a statue, and remembering it three days later?"

"I'm sorry, Torako."

Torako shrugged her shoulders. "Thanks."

Tomo ran up alongside Torako as they pushed through the trees and thick undergrowth. "Look, we missed our days off. I'm taking tomorrow off, and then we'll head back to work. That stupid convenience store vandalism case can wait, it's not pressing. The chief owes us, anyway," Tomo said.

"Yeah," Torako said, her weary voice destined for sleep, and, with luck, momentary forgetfulness. "Let's get Osaka and get out of here."

"Oh yeah," Tomo said. She pulled out the radio. "Hey Osaka, everything going okay over there?"

"Monsieur Chien ate a frog," Osaka said. "It was gross. Also, I'm wet."

"Don't worry about that, we'll be there in a jiff," Tomo said, and the two stepped out onto the lighted walkway and headed toward the statue. Thunder cracked across the sky, and the rain finally broke.


	9. Chapter 9

The night sky gleefully rained on the four as they ran back to the car hidden in the alley. Tomo, not knowing how to pace herself when it came to strenuous activity, felt as if her adrenal glands were pumping bleach.

Osaka and Monsieur Chien jumped into the car still clothed in their police vests. Osaka removed hers, and then removed Monsieur Chien's while Torako drove them back to safety, with Tomo taking big gulps of air to put out the fire in her lungs. Once Monsieur Chien's vest was off, the dog's instincts took over and he shook himself inside the car, spraying the occupants with water tainted by his canine self.

Upon returning to the kennel, Monsieur Chien vomited the remains of the frog he ate at the kennel master's feet. Mr. Ichiro, with newly sprouted stubble cactusing his dry and arid face, expressed his opinion on the defilement of his formally spotless yard through profanity and threats of violence against Tomo. That Tomo wasn't holding Monsieur Chien's leash when he ate a frog didn't matter.

"Hey, he's a Frenchman," Tomo said in defense. "They do love their frog legs. Who am I to deny his heritage? You need to stop being a xenophobe, Mr. Ichiro."

Their argument, stupid from birth, quickly grew into idiocy and blind wrath.

The three piled into Torako's Fiat after dropping off the Civic at headquarters. Torako put on her shades despite it being late evening, and didn't argue with Tomo when she played with the radio dial. Tomo used a scattershot method known only to her on when to change the station and when to leave it, which caused many arguments from those forcibly subjected to it.

Torako had been silent since they ran from Ueno Park, her face solidified into a morose frown. Tomo would glance at her occasionally, becoming more and more irritated as Torako's mood influenced her own. Tomo's poorly thought-out attempts at comforting Torako were first ignored, and then answered by an all-consuming, "Shut up."

Angry and hurt, Tomo spent the rest of the ride in silence, with the only sound coming from the bad J-pop playing on the radio.

...

Tomo returned to her apartment with burning ears, wet clothes, aching legs, spent lungs, and a raging mind. She didn't say goodbye to Torako, slamming the Fiat door and running upstairs to her apartment, as fast as her tired, rubbery legs could take her. Osaka's waving and smiling was loud enough to wake up their neighbors, assuming they were able to sleep through the clouds firing thick, heavy raindrops at the building as if it were the target of a drive-by. Osaka said goodnight to Tomo, who nodded and made an arthritic wave while slouching into her apartment.

Tomo dragged herself into the kitchen, and Rico, freshly bathed, whistled. He was sitting at the two-chair table against the kitchen wall, mostly used for piling up mail and receipts before their eventual migration to the trash can, which he had pulled up next to the table. It was full of dead envelopes, slashed open by a letter opener. On the table Rico made two piles for the bills, the smaller one marked "anxiety", and the larger one marked "panic".

"Today sucked," Tomo said, the words sliding out of her mouth like a trickle of water from a leaky sink. She took off her jacket and let it plop on the yellow tile floor with a soggy thud. Rico watched Tomo as she scraped off her wet shoes and socks. "Hungry," she said, like a zombie searching for brains.

"I made some chicken stir-fry," Rico said. "It's in the fridge if you want to heat it up."

Tomo padded over to the counter and grasped the bottom notch of a bamboo drawer, pulling it open. She pulled out a folded blue and white checkered hand towel, holding it by its edges while gravity unfurled it. She rubbed her head and her face, before dropping the damp towel on the floor.

Rico was trying to divide his time between figuring out bills and watching his wife, but his Tomo-alarm was blaring too loudly for him to multitask. He dropped the power bill on the table, folded his arms, and watched Tomo with grim humor.

"Want me to heat up that chicken?" he said.

"Nah, I'll do it," Tomo said. She grabbed the shirttail of her button up shirt and pulled it over her head.

"I'll put that in the dryer for you," Rico said. Before he could get out of his seat, Tomo twisted the shirt like a washcloth and wrung it out, expelling water onto the floor.

"What are you doing?" Rico said, aghast. "Are you crazy?"

"Which question do you want me to answer first?" Tomo said. She tossed the shirt on the floor like a used napkin. "Anyway, it's tile." She tapped her foot on the puddle in demonstration, splashing water on the cabinet doors under the sink. "You can mop it up."

"That's not the point," Rico said. "You… oh never mind." Rico rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.

"Hey, Rico," Tomo said.

Rico stopped rubbing his eyes and waited for the pink and orange fireworks to fade away. Behind them, he saw that Tomo had removed her pants, and was now only standing in her t-shirt and boxers. She had her pants in her hands, ready to wring like the neck of an annoying sibling.

"Tomo, don't!"

Tomo wrung her pants, punishing the wicked floor with a deluge even Noah couldn't survive. She kept her attention focused on her husband, whose expression danced from shock to tired acceptance. When she had wrung the last drop of moisture out of her pants, she tossed it on her mountain of wet clothes.

"See?" she said. "You can mop it up."

"I can mop it up," Rico said, emphasizing "I" like the name of a mooching relative.

"Well, you like mopping so much," Tomo said. "You talk about it all the time." She walked toward Rico and put her hands on his shoulders, and pushed. He didn't budge.

"Trying to knock me over? Good luck."

"Scoot back, dummy," Tomo said.

Rico scooted the chair back, the metal legs groaning in protest. Tomo straddled his lap, her bare legs hanging down over his hips, the tips of her toes touching the floor. She put her arms around his broad shoulders and buried her face into the side of his neck. He felt warm like a sirocco and smelled clean like a lemon orchard.

Rico put one arm around her waist, and the other snaked into her damp t-shirt. He gently caressed her soft back, his thumb tracing the rocky trail of her spine.

"That bad, huh?" he said. It came out louder than he wanted it to, more suited to barking instructions at a jackhammer operator instead of comforting a woman.

"Yeah," she said, into his neck.

"What happened?"

Tomo tried to run the night through her head, to pick one thing she could talk about, but all that appeared were the jumbled images of Torako's anger and the pictures Tomo hid in Osaka's apartment.

"I don't even know," Tomo said, nuzzling Rico's neck. "Stupid Torako."

A wide grin spread across Rico's face, seen only by the imp prodding him on.

"What, she wouldn't give you any play?"

Tomo leaned back and looked at Rico with as much disdain as her tired self could muster. "Shut up," she said, and Rico laughed.

...

"I mean, who the hell does she think she is?" Tomo said. "I was there trying to help her and she snaps at me like I'm some dumb child. What's her problem, huh?"

"She was looking awful down, Tomo," Osaka said, flipping eggs in a saucepan. "I think she's really upset about not finding out who killed Ms. Ayase."

It was late morning, and Tomo took advantage of her day off to hang out at Osaka's taqueria. Breakfast was an alien concept to the business minded Tokyoites in the area, so in the morning hours the restaurant was visited by immigrant workers from Latin America, eager for a taste of home even if it was by way of Mexico.

Osaka was at the La Cornue range, all burners going at once. She was tending to a large iron skillet, seasoned to such slickness that Spider-Man himself couldn't stick to it. Right now it was frying a chorizo sausage, made in-house at her taqueria. At the other end of the snug kitchen, one of her cooks was putting ground corn into a mechanical tortilla press. The ones that weren't deep fried for chips were wrapped in cellophane, tied, and stickered with a tag that said "Osaka's Taqueria". A cashier would grab several at once and bring them up front to the slavering customers, more Latin American immigrants who knew where to find the best tortillas in Tokyo.

Tomo sat on an equipment counter behind Osaka, with an empty beer bottle next to her hip and a half full one in her hand. She was careful not to be in view of the order window. Sure, it was only 10:00, but some people can be a little uppity about drinking alcohol at such an early hour.

Osaka moved the chorizo onto a blue plate, and Tomo saw bubbling black mass in an iron pot on the stove.

"Ugh, what is that?" Tomo said, pointing. "Boiled tumors?"

"Oh no, they've come back!" Osaka said, reaching for a knife. She saw what Tomo was pointing at, and relaxed her grip. "That's not it," Osaka said. "Those are refried beans." She grabbed a ladle and scooped some into the plate.

"Refried beans? How… wait," Tomo said, her eyes squinting in confusion. "What do you mean 'they've come back'?"

One of Osaka's employees walked into the kitchen from the service entrance, head down, tracing a constantly walked trail to her service station, which was in front of the serving window. She grabbed an apron and hastily tied it on while she made a subservient bow to Osaka.

"I'm sorry I'm late Ms. Kasuga," she said. "Please forgive my indiscretion."

"Eh? You're late?" Osaka said, studying the bowing figure. "I thought I was late."

"Um," the employee said. She vacillated between bowing and standing, not sure what protocol dictated her to do. "Well, I guess you can be late, Ms. Kasuga. I mean… well…"

"Well, we're both late together, then" Osaka said. She smiled and did her rapid-fire, sandy laugh. "Got a plate coming up, so get ready."

"Yes ma'am," the employee said. She prepped her station.

Osaka dumped the eggs on the plate, along with the sausage and refried beans. The plate moved over to the tardy employee's section, where she added pico de gallo, guacamole, and four freshly grilled tortillas. She put the plate on the serving window and rung the bell, and a waitress came and took it to the waiting customer.

The cashier poked his head through the serving window. "Most of the customers have left now, Ms. Kasuga," he said. "It's going to be slow going until the lunch crowd."

"Okay Guillermo," Osaka said, rolling up invisible sleeves. "Clean-up time. Give the girls up front a break, but stagger it. I don't want a repeat of Friday. That was all sorts of awful."

"Yes'm."

"Hey," Tomo said. She had stuck her fingers in her beer bottles and was clanking them together. "How many people do you have under you?"

"Hmm, let's see," Osaka said, her eyes drifting upward, as if to read notes printed on her mental ceiling. She counted on her fingers. "Sixteen… no, yeah! Sixteen!" she said.

"Wow," Tomo said. One of the empty bottles fell from her finger and bounced on the floor. "You're in the big time with all those people." She hopped down and collected the dropped bottle, ignoring the angry stares from the two staff members inside the kitchen.

Tomo threw away the two empty bottles and leaned against the counter next to the stove, where Osaka was wiping down her area with a cloth. Tomo was going to start up on the subject of Torako again, but Osaka pre-empted her.

"What all happened at that homeless community?" Osaka said.

"Oh that," Tomo said, and detailed the failure at getting anyone to talk. "Torako looked super depressed when it fell through. I guess you could say it was her last stand."

"Aw, that's too bad," Osaka said.

"Pfft, what do I care? It's her stupid case, not mine. Anyway, I know those guys know something."

"Really? How so?"

"Well, how they were acting! They weren't just silent, you know, they were shifty about it. They were doing that little trick where they try really hard not to look at each other, and you can tell they're trying, you know?"

"They figured you were cops, I guess," Osaka said. "Since they saw you two come talk to me, and I had that big 'ol vest on. Homeless folks don't particularly care for cops, ya know."

"Yeah," Tomo said. She scooted close next to the counter so one of the cooks could pass on her way to the freezer. "I'm surprised the cook gave me some rice and tea. Nice guy."

"Yep, and to spare you some food, too," Osaka said. "I mean, most of those guys actually have jobs, but they can't afford housing here. So they gotta buy the cheapest staples they can, you know? Rice and organ meat and all that. Not much spice outside of salt or what they can grow."

"You know a lot about homeless, Osaka," Tomo said, smiling. "You study up on them or something?"

"Nope," Osaka said. She tossed the rag on the stove and turned to face Tomo. "My husband was homeless for a while, and told me about it."

And there it was. The gauntlet thrown down. The subject Tomo had been dancing around since this morning, and Osaka decided to just plow right on through.

"Torako saw my necklace," Osaka said. "I'm guessing she told you about it."

"Yeah," Tomo said. She swallowed, and said, "What happened?"

"He got killed," Osaka said. It was a simple statement of fact, with no emotion behind it. Osaka picked up her rag and started cleaning the already clean stove, rubbing the top slowly. "Over a year ago," she said. "That happened, and then five months later I was in Mexico eating that taco." She tossed the rag down again, and gripped both sides of the stove. She looked straight ahead at the collection of pots and pans hanging from their hooks, seeing something reflected on their shiny surfaces that she didn't recognize. She turned slowly to face Tomo, her eyes glazed and smiling like Osaka always was, but her mouth a tight straight line, like a border between two warring countries. "I lost five whole months. I don't know if I even got to grieve, or whatever. Don't know where he's buried."

Tomo swallowed again, her mind groping for any little thing to say, some iota of comfort. She blurted out, "I'm sorry," and regretted the banality of it.

Osaka smiled, gentle and sincere. "Thanks," she said. She let go of the stove and sighed.

"Listen," Tomo said, leaning close to Osaka and speaking quietly. She glanced at the cook at the tortilla machine, who seemed occupied with some work related task. "I care about what happened, but I don't want to dig up anything, okay? So if I don't ask you about what you've been doing during your disappearance, I want you to know it's not because I'm selfish. But if there's-"

The freezer door opened and the tardy cook came out, carrying a box. Tomo moved away from Osaka while Osaka pretended to clean the stove again.

When the cook passed, Tomo leaned in toward Osaka again. "You can talk to me about anything, and I'll listen."

"Thanks again," Osaka said. "But there's not much I can talk about, I guess."

Tomo grinned and reverted back to her normal self, which was a combination of loud volume and manic behavior. "Oh, that boring, huh?"

"No, they told me it'd be a security risk," Osaka said, and Tomo decided it was time for another beer.

...

Osaka let her kitchen staff take a quick break while she prepared adobo, a marinade made from chipotles, tomatoes, and limes, amongst other ingredients. Osaka grew most of her own chilies, herbs, and spices in a greenhouse on the roof of her restaurant, a jungle of pots and tangled vines. Some items traditional in Mexican (or at least Matamoros) cuisine couldn't be grown in Tokyo despite Osaka's best efforts, such as avocados. She did manage to find an avocado grower in Okinawa, so she didn't have to worry about paying high prices in import fees. Chipotles, however, had to be imported, as they were simply too time consuming for her to make at the volume her customers demanded.

"Stupid Torako," Tomo said. She was sitting on the edge of the sink, tapping her half empty beer bottle on the edge while she watched Osaka play in the red goopy marinade.

"You oughta call her," Osaka said. "She probably feels bad about snapping at you."

"I'm not calling her," Tomo snorted. "She should be calling me to apologize." She hopped off the edge of the sink, walked toward Osaka, and leaned on the prep table, careful not to invade Osaka's radius of messiness.

"Hey, do you have to do anything different for Japanese tastes?" Tomo said.

"All the time," Osaka said. She held up a finger, dyed red with the guts of tomatoes and chilies. "As a matter of fact, I made a new invention using rice tortillas! I call it taco yaki!"

Tomo fixed Osaka with a look between disbelief and scorn. "Um, Osaka? Takoyaki is old. You should know that, you're from Osaka."

"No Tomo, Taco… yaki."

"Yeah, takoyaki," Tomo said, and she took another sip of her beer, giving Osaka a quick sidelong glance.

"No, listen to me," Osaka said. She held her two hands, palms facing each other, as if they were fencing in her concepts. "Taco," she said, and then moved the fence over for the second part, "yaki."

Tomo shrugged.

Osaka flung her hands in the air, slinging marinade on the wall while Tomo scrambled for cover. "It's fried octopus ball tacos!" she shouted.

"Oh," Tomo said, and then Osaka's concept finally infiltrated her brain. "Oh! Ohhh! Fried octopus ball tacos!"

"See? I might have to spell it in English for it to make sense," Osaka said. "But I make these oblong rice tortillas and put the octopus balls inside, with a mild spicy sauce. I press the edges together, and you have a pocket type food that you won't spill on you when you eat it."

"Hey, that's actually a pretty good idea, Osaka," Tomo said. She held the beer up in salute. "You can actually eat tacos on the go without spilling them on you."

"Yep! There's a high school around here, and a lot of the kids pass by on the way home. So, I got something I can sell while they walk home, and they- gah!" she shouted.

"What?"

"Why are my walls bleeding?" Osaka said, spinning around her kitchen. "I'm in a horror movie!"

"No Osaka, that's marinade," Tomo said. "You flung it on the wall when you were talking about octopus balls."

Osaka giggled.

"What?"

"Sorry, it's just… never mind." She went back to her adobo. "You know what? I'm tired at looking at this. It's done because I say it's done."

"Yeah!" Tomo shouted, thrusting her fist into the air, splashing some of her beer onto the floor. "Show it who's boss!"

Tomo helped Osaka marinade the pork and chicken she planned on cooking that evening. The two cooks came back, the one who worked in the prep area giving Tomo the evil eye. Tomo responded by looking straight at her and taking a mighty swig of her beer, draining it. Osaka asked the cook to clean the marinade off of the wall. She grudgingly complied with a "Yes, Ms. Kasuga" and a confused look.

"Your octopus ball tacos are a good idea," Tomo said, while they washed their hands, "if you'd add a little fried rice to it."

"The tortilla is already rice," Osaka said. "It'd be kinda overkill." She flung the water from her hands into the sink before grabbing a towel. "It's weird, you know. We eat rice so much, you'd think we'd get tired of it already."

"Well, it's what you eat along with it," Tomo said. She thought of the homeless community and the cook with his combination of rice and green tea. I bet that got monotonous, Tomo thought, and then inspiration struck her.

"Osaka!"

"Tomo?" Osaka said, seeing her friend's shining face.

Tomo grabbed Osaka's shoulder with her free hand. "Make forty tacos! Pork, fish, beef, chicken, whatever!"

"Um, okay. Are we having a party?"

"Yeah, a homeless party!" Tomo said. She then shook her head. "No, I mean, it's for the guys in Ueno Park! See, Torako came on too strong, but of course that's Torako for you. But, I bet if I treated them to some real good food, they'll open up a little and tell me what they saw at Takamori statue!"

Osaka glanced at the empty beer bottle in Tomo's hand, and smelled the alcohol on her breath. "Hmm, a little kindness would go a long way," Osaka said, avoiding what she wanted to say like a negotiator in a hostage situation. "But you're assuming an awful lot, thinking they saw something or remember anything."

"I know they did," Tomo said. "They were acting way too shifty. Something weird is going on over there, and I'm going to get to the bottom of it."

"Okay ladies," Osaka said to her staff. "Let's get on that right now." The two cooks gave a chorus of yes ma'am, and started collecting the ingredients.

"I tell you what, I'll finance this endeavor," Osaka said, fixing Tomo with a serious look like a Wall Street broker.

"What's with the fancy language?" Tomo said. "Besides, they're only seventy-five yen a pop. I can handle it."

"Oh, I know," Osaka said. "But I'm glad you'll let me talk to you about stuff, I didn't know where I stood there with you. You were kinda all squirrely about that ever since we bumped in to each other again."

"Sorry about that," Tomo said, rubbing her head and looking away. "I didn't mean to come across like that."

Osaka waved her concerns away. "See, this is just a small favor I can do for you. It's like those fairies in _A Link to the Past_, who heal you and give you bombs, and say 'this is just a small favor I can do for you.'"

"Um…"

"Basically, I'm the fairy that increases the size of your bombs and arrows. Get it?"

Tomo froze her grin to hide the mounting horror and faint amusement moving in behind it. "Uh, sure, thanks."

"You're welcome," Osaka said. She walked over to her range to prepare cooking the meat, when Tomo followed behind.

"Oh yeah, one more thing," Tomo said. She tossed her empty beer bottle in the trash.

"What's that?"

Tomo held out her hand. "Can I borrow your car?"

"My car?" Osaka said. "But I thought you couldn't do a stick shift-"

"No, I'm not talking about The Black Death," Tomo said. "The steering wheel is on the wrong side anyway. I'm talking about the delivery truck."

The delivery truck was an older model Daihatsu Hi-jet van, primarily used for picking up food from the local farmer's market. Osaka wasn't aware of her traffic infractions and lack of driver's license, and Tomo made a convincing argument that it would take at least ten beers to get her drunk. Osaka handed over the keys, and Tomo was on her way to Ueno Park to distribute forty tacos to the homeless camp in an attempt to help Torako with her case. This plan, cooked up in a brain stewed in alcohol and hurt feelings, looked less and less viable to Tomo as she became more and more sober.

...

There weren't many people at the park when Tomo entered through the main entrance. Puddles left over from last night's storm reflected the grey sky, and sagging trees dripped water like tears. Tomo took a park map from the smiling attendant behind the public service counter. Obviously the homeless camp wouldn't be listed, but she looked for the Saigo Takamori statue, and traced her and steps from there. The chill wind grabbing her bare legs made her realize shorts were a bad idea. Shortly, she was in front of the clump of trees holding the homeless camp she visited last night. Tomo, holding the insulated bag full of food, shivered and tramped through the small growth of trees.

Last night, with illumination provided by the weak gleam of low-wattage light bulbs and paper lanterns, the homeless camp had an almost surreal feel to it, like a hidden village found only by secret pathways and arcane rituals. Now, under the grey light of an overcast day, it looked drab and decrepit. While the inhabitants did their best to keep the camp clean and organized, it was a hard battle to protect tarp enclosures and dirt pathways from nature's attack.

Tomo walked toward the café, taking delicate steps to avoid muddying her shoes. She didn't see many people, and the ones she saw weren't the same from yesterday. The tiny voice telling her that this was a stupid idea and that it wasn't going to work was ignored. Tomo shored up her confidence by imagining herself telling Torako about how she got the people here to open up about what they saw at the statue. She could see it now, Torako on hands and knees, weeping, and begging forgiveness for treating Tomo so callously.

"Oh Tomo, how could I ever have been so mean?" Torako said, although she was manlier in Tomo's fantasy. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"Why of course," Tomo said, standing tall and voluptuous over the cringing Torako. "You shall be on the receiving end of my queenly magnanimity! Stand tall young Torako, and one day you too can attain my heights of awesomeness."

Torako stood up, her deep bishounen eyes blinking away glittering tears. "Oh, thank you, dear Tomo. I can only hope to aspire to your level of lordly caliber."

The tiny voice in Tomo's head was now shouting that Torako would chose death over acting like a subservient flunky, but that too was ignored.

...

Tomo stood in front of the café, empty of people. She peeled off her shoes on the large floor mat, which displayed the colorful logo of a defunct tire corporation long since merged and liquidated.

She saw that a wide floor table had been placed where she ate last night. "Hey!" she said, placing the bag onto the table. "Anyone home?"

At the back of the restaurant, adjacent to the makeshift kitchen, was tiny camping tent. The flaps opened and the cook from last night poked his head out and blinked at Tomo.

Tomo wanted to do this the proper way, so she stood and bowed. "So good to see you," she said.

"One moment," the cook said, and he ducked his head back into the tent and zipped it up. Tomo looked around the inside of the café, and saw that several people had entered, led by the sumptuous smell of Osaka's cooking.

"Hello," she said. "These are free." She opened the bag and took out some tacos.

The tent flap unzipped, and the cook stepped out onto the floor. "Welcome back," he said. He sniffed, and zoned in on the tacos Tomo was placing on the table. "I knew you didn't come here to get some more rice and tea," he said, his eyes on the food. "But I didn't expect this."

"It's my way of saying thanks!" Tomo said. "There're forty of them, so whoever wants any can dig in."

The cook, named Yoshi, opened his café for business. Twelve people showed up, and they consumed the tacos and drank tepid water that had been boiled that morning. Tomo didn't recognize anyone from last night.

"Hey, I don't remember seeing this," she said, knocking on the table.

"It was being cleaned last night," the cook said, after he had swallowed his mouthful. "One of the guys here gets disinfectant from his job, so we use it clean the eating area."

"Eh? She was here last night?" a voice piped up from the crowd huddled around the table. "What were you doing here?"

"She's a cop," one of the guys said, before Tomo could answer. He looked young and oily, and wore a perpetual sneer.

The eating halted and the men made secretive glances at each other. Tomo plunged into her explanation - her cunning plan - before it could be scuttled by her sinking heart.

"Yeah, about that," she said, propping her elbow on the table. "I'm looking for any suspicious activity going on in front of the Saigo Takamori statue, specifically a woman with light brown hair. Or anything." The tiny disquieting voice became a cyclone of mocking laughter. She didn't even have a picture of Asagi Ayase to show to this group. Her expression and posture froze in an attempt to hide her sense of failure.

"Oh yeah," one of the guys said, a wild-haired man. "Kumi told me about that. You and some other cop came over here, and she was asking those same questions. She even had rice and tea and everything."

"She ate here?" One of the guys said. "What, you like it so much you decided to come back and bring food?"

"There's no need to bother her, gentlemen," Yoshi said, his eyes darting over the group.

"Well, uh… I was hoping, you know," Tomo faltered. She smoothed down her hair with both hands before putting them in her lap. "I brought food over because, well, I was hoping it would convince you guys that I was okay, and someone would tell me what's been going on at that statue."

The men looked at Tomo and then looked at each other. A man, grizzled with grey hair and a grey beard, stood up and threw down his half eaten taco and stormed out of the café. A snicker escaped before being choked back. The snicker, however, brought more with it, and soon the whole table erupted into laughter. Tomo clenched her fists.

"What's so funny?" She said. "That girl's been murdered! Does that mean anything to you?"

"Don't talk down to me," the young oily man said. He stood up and pointed at Tomo. "I'd rather live here my whole life than snitch to some pig."

Tomo stood up and shook a fist at the petulant sneer and the boy behind it. "Oh yeah? How about you spend your whole life in jail! How do you like that?"

Several of the men sprung to their feet and started shouting a cacophony of threats against Tomo, who turned red and started threatening them back. Most of the other eaters quickly left the café, taking their tacos and glasses of water with them. Yoshi stood up with his hands outstretched, entreating the assembled to calm down. They eventually left the café, leaving Tomo with Yoshi and an old man, who was sitting at the table and calmly eating his taco.

Tomo stood still, facing downward, her fists at her hips. She was failing to control her harsh breathing.

"I'm sorry for that," Yoshi said. "They can be quite prideful. You're welcome here whenever you want to come, although the crew may not like that much."

"Thank you," Tomo said. She looked up at Yoshi and forced a smile. "I need to be going, sorry to cause a commotion." She bowed in apology.

Yoshi put his hands on his sides and bowed back. "No need to apologize," he said, when they both stood upright. "This was superb food you brought, absolutely delicious. Please give my compliments to the chef."

"Yeah, these are pretty tasty," the lingering old man said, sitting at the other end of the table. He burped and thumped his chest. "You should've brought some sake, though."

"Why?" Tomo said. "So they could be drunk and angry?"

The old man shook his head, and tapped his chest to expel more gas. "Nope. They probably would've told you something." The old man looked up and smiled a gap-toothed grin at Tomo. He patted the space next to him. "Come over and speak for a bit."

"No thanks," Tomo said, "I need to be going. I borrowed a car, and well… I just need to go," she said.

The old man cocked an eyebrow. "That's some pretty lame investigating, Ms. Detective," he said. "Back in my day, they would've pursued this to the end."

"Oh great," Tomo said. "Someone trying to tell me how to do my job. No thanks, mister."

"Yoshi," the old man said. Yoshi stopped his cleaning of the table to listen. "Get us some tea, please."

"I told you, I'm not staying," Tomo said, walking toward the exit where the shoes were kept. She started stuffing her feet into hers.

"I was a beat cop, back in the day," the old man said, loud enough for Tomo to hear him. "I was taught how to identify witnesses and how to pay attention." He made a show of cleaning his fingernails while Tomo paused putting her foot into her other shoe. She stared at the old man while he made elaborate gestures of cleaning his fingers, observing each nail carefully as if it was a rare jewel.

Tomo sighed, rolled her eyes, and stepped out of her shoes. "Alright, you got me," she said. "I'll sit next to you. But if you try to feel me up, I'm taking you down, old man."

"I'm not going to feel you up," he said with a sly grin. "But if you had that tall drink of water from last night with you, well… she might not be so lucky."

Tomo squinted as she tried to process the old man's weird riddle. The terror pillaging her face showed that she had solved it. "Torako?"

"Ah, Torako," the old man said, with a wistful smile. He looked into space, as if reminiscing of past lovers from countless summers ago. "So that's her name. Fitting."

"You like that, old man?" Tomo said, as she sat down next to him. Yoshi brought out their tea, placing the cups in front of the two.

The old man snapped to attention. "Call me Jichiro," he said to Tomo.

"Tomo," Tomo said. She took a sip of her tea, and watched Yoshi sit across from her. He had his own cup of tea "So, what do you want to talk about?"

Jichiro looked intently into Tomo's face. He was silent for so long that Tomo thought he didn't hear her.

"Why did you become a detective?" Jichiro said.

Tomo propped an elbow on the table and leaned her head into her hand, like a bored student in after-school detention. "Hunt down evil-doers, duh," Tomo said.

"That's a childlike answer," Jichiro said, when he finished taking a sip from his tea.

Tomo jerked upright and slammed her palm on the table. "Childish? What's so childish about that? Why did you become a cop, huh? Wait, let me guess." Tomo folded her arms and pursed her lips, her head cocked at a jaunty angle. "You probably got some girl knocked up, you didn't have any education, so being a cop was the only way out, huh?" She thrust her face close to his brown wrinkled face, and waited for an answer.

"Nope," he said. "I wanted to hunt down evil doers."

Tomo went back to her bored student in detention look. "Uh huh," she said. "So, what's with calling me childish?"

Jichiro held his cup in his hand and eyed Tomo. "Don't slouch," he said. "Sit up straight. I said childlike, not childish. We both became cops for childlike reasons, and that's a good thing."

"How so?" Tomo said, slouching even further, the effect making her body appear as a bag of viscous liquid held up only by her arm propped on the table.

"An adult reason is usually going to be something along the lines of having a career, or tradition, or that nonsense you said about me," Jichiro said. "We did it for pure reasons."

"Yay purity," Tomo said, as she held up her tea in toast. She took a sip.

"Yeah, mock an old man," Jichiro said. "Just making sure we're on the same page. Why'd Torako become a police officer?"

"She wanted to drive fast cars and chase after people breaking the speed limit," Tomo said. She caught herself right before she looked at her watch.

Jichiro smiled his gap-tooth smile. "Nice," he said. "She's like us, then."

Tomo figured he was an old man wanting to spend some time with an attractive young woman. She wondered how long she'd have to play this game before he either said what he knew, or showed her up as a fool.

"So, Mr. Jichiro," Tomo said, "why'd you end up here?"

"Well, aren't you blunt," he said.

"You wanted to talk," she said.

"I got fired because I was a Burakumin," he said, as if it was minutia not worth bothering over. "They trumped up some false charge about me embezzling, but everyone knew the real reason. I had just hit my fortieth birthday, too. That's how it goes, I guess."

"So you've been here…" Tomo counted on her fingers. "One hundred years? Wow, you've seen a lot in your life."

"I'm seventy-two, Tomo," he said. Tomo bristled at him using her name with such a familiar air, as if he was her grandfather. "I did a lot of odd jobs, mostly rust repairing at a local machinist. They call when the need me." He shrugged. "Not much of a demand for those sorts of skills anymore. I help out around here by growing daikon. I got them spread out all over this park. They're pretty good, too. You should take some with you."

Tomo's body began to tremble with impatience and mounting anxiety. She was worried that she'd have to listen to his whole life's story.

"I'm sorry to hear about you getting fired," she said. "I bet I could find you a job somewhere as a beat cop. I'll put in a good word with Chief Akiyama."

Jichiro's face lit up. "Saneyuki?"

"Yeah, you know him?"

Jichiro laughed and slapped the table. "Well, don't that beat all! I thought they drummed him out after the black water incident!"

Tomo's boredom and anxiety vanished, replaced by the excitement of scandalous information concerning the chief. She stretched her head toward Jichiro as if she was trying to will her ears to get larger.

"Black water incident? What's that about?"

"Well," Jichiro said. He stopped and narrowed his eyes at Tomo. "Why don't you ask him?"

"Oh come on," Tomo said. "Surely you can tell me something. Please?"

Jichiro cleared his throat. "Well, I'd prefer not to," he said. "But I will say everyone expected him to go all the way to the top. Superintendent General, no doubt."

"Wow," Tomo said.

"He was brilliant," Jichiro said. "After the black water incident, though, he was persona non grata with the higher ups. What's his rank now?"

"Superintendent," Tomo said. "He's over the Kojimachi district."

Jichiro shook his head, and made a grunt of disbelief. "At least they're smart enough to keep him on." He stretched, and pushed his empty teacup to the middle of the table. Yoshi, sitting silently on the other side, picked it up and took it to the makeshift kitchen in the back of the café.

"I've seen a brown haired lady at the statue a week ago," he said.

Tomo leaned in close to listen to his quite voice. "That'll be Asagi Ayase," she said.

Jichiro nodded. "But she's not the only one. Once a week, every Wednesday, at least for the past two months, at 12:00 noon, two people meet at the bench next to that statue."

"Well, that's conveniently specific," Tomo said.

Jichiro's eyebrows and frown showed distaste. "I told you, I was a cop for twenty years. I pay attention. But as I was saying, one guy will sit on the bench, around 12:00, and put a box next to him, like it's his lunch. If the bench is occupied, he'll wait until he can sit down. Another guy will come from the same direction and stand in front of the statue, far enough to observe his compatriot sitting on the bench."

Yoshi came back with Jichiro's cup of tea, for which he thanked him. He took a sip before continuing.

"The man on the bench will get up to leave. The second person will walk to the vacant spot and pick up the box, and walk away with it."

"Ah, a handoff," Tomo said.

"Well, it only started a month ago. I don't know what purpose they have doing it, it's not my business, you know."

"Now, you said you saw Ms. Ayase there?"

"Yes," Jichiro said. "Last Wednesday, at 12:00. They were about to do the handoff, and she walked right in front of the man on the bench and started talking to him. The other man came over, and they had some angry argument, all kinds of finger pointing and frowning and all that. One of the guys tried to grab her arm, but four large, mean looking men showed up and surrounded the two. I'm assuming they were her bodyguards. Anyway, the two ran off."

"Do you think they'll show up again?"

Jichiro shrugged. "Who knows? I don't know any of the reasons for that behavior. So, what happened to Ms. Ayase?"

"She was killed in a hotel room," Tomo said. "We're investigating it, but keep it quiet, if you don't mind."

"Heh, who would I talk to?"

...

Tomo thanked Jichiro for his help. Scratching at the back of her mind was the possibility that this stocky old man with the twinkling eyes and easy smile was playing a joke on her. Maybe, but it would be up to Torako if they were to take his story seriously.

Walking out into the chill wind, Tomo quickly made her way back to the delivery van to crank up the heat. She pulled out her cell phone, rallied her self-confidence, and selected Torako's number stored in the phone's address book.

The phone immediately rolled into the answering service, showcasing Torako's terse and sullen message. "Torako. Not in. Leave message." Tomo made an exasperated grunt. She didn't want to relate the whole story to the answering machine, so she asked Torako to call her back as soon as possible, "It concerns Ms. Ayase. I'm serious Torako, I'm not teasing. Please call as soon as possible."

Tomo clamped shut her cell and pocketed it. She sat with her hands in her lap while the delivery van idled. She watched the billowing exhaust reflected in the rear view mirror. Lethargy seeped into her body and her eyelids grew heavy, so she leaned her head onto the driver-side window. Some time passed before she blinked away the heavy film coating her concentration.

"Ugh, what's wrong with me?" she said. She sat up, vigorously slapped her cheeks, and grunted. "Stupid weather," she said, as she put the truck into reverse. "This is your fault."

...

Rico called while Tomo was en route to Osaka's taqueria. He was able to leave work early, which cheered Tomo. He didn't sound so happy about it, though.

"Hey, what's the deal?" Tomo said, as she sped through a yellow light. "You sound like you're dreading spending some time with me."

"No, that's not it," he said. "I think some nationalist right wing group showed up at work today."

"Uyoku dantai? Hah, those jokers. What were they doing, playing propaganda over their loudspeakers and driving around in vans?"

"I wish," Rico said. "They were driving a black Toyota Crown. There were three of them, dressed in suits and ties. They asked one of my workers a question, and he pointed at me. They looked at me, frowned, and left."

Tomo gripped her cell phone and nearly ran over a passing motorist. "What? Why? Did you ask your coworker?"

"Yeah, I did. He said they specifically asked for me by name."

"The hell they do that for?"

"Lady, I don't know," Rico said. "If I was going to take a wild guess, I'd say it's because, maybe, I'm from Brazil?"

"Oh come on," Tomo said. "Your dad's Japanese. You look the same as us, how can they tell?"

Thick silence seeped out of the phone. "Uh, Tomo? Maybe you think you're married to a different guy, but I'm dark skinned and 198 centimeters tall."

"Yeah, but your eyes!" Tomo said. Rico laughed. "Tell them you're from Okinawa!"

They closed the call after reassuring each other that it was an isolated incident, and it would never happen again.

...

Tomo's cell phone played Morning Musume as she pulled the delivery truck into the parking lot of Osaka's taqueria. Torako was calling. Tomo chose that ringtone for a very specific reason.

"I hate Morning Musume," Torako said, when Tomo told her that they were her new ringtone.

"I know! That's the whole point!" Tomo said. "You'll have to listen to them when you call."

"If you were close enough where I could listen to them, I wouldn't have to call you," Torako said, punching holes in Tomo's mad scheme. "So really, I don't have to hear them."

"Ah, but every time you call me, you'll know they're playing," Tomo said. "That knowledge will drive you crazy, and then my plan will be complete."

Torako made a tight-lipped smile. "That doesn't bother me one bit," she said.

"Oh? The knowledge that one of your most loathed bands plays whenever you call doesn't even cause the slightest distress?"

"No," Torako said. "Would it bother you?"

"Yeah," Tomo said. "I couldn't stand it."

So in retaliation, Torako set Tomo's ringtone to The Stranglers _No More Heroes_, a song Tomo loathed beyond all rational bounds. She hated the slurry English voice cataloging failed pseudo-heroes, and the inappropriate keyboard diddling in the background. What she hated most of all, though, was that her scheme had backfired so spectacularly. At least Torako didn't bring it up anymore.

Tomo answered the phone. "Hey, Torako!"

"I can't believe I missed The Stranglers _No More Heroes,_" Torako said.

"Dammit, not now. I have some…" Tomo trailed off when she heard popping sounds in the background. "Where are you?"

"Firing range."

"Okaaaay," Tomo said. "Nice. Anyway, I got some info you might like to hear." Tomo related Jichiro's story.

"Do you think he's telling the truth?" Torako said.

"Well, only way to find out. I knew those guys were acting fishy last night."

"Hmm," Torako said, and Tomo imagined her blowing smoke. "She causes a confrontation at Ueno Park, and then gets murdered at the hotel six hours later. We have three days until Wednesday. Should be plenty of time to prepare a plan."

Tomo waited for the shots to stop before she spoke. "Well, in that case, we destroy this vandalism case in the meantime. Also, you have the rare opportunity of apologizing for being mean to me last night."

Tomo heard more gunshots. "Mean," Torako said.

"Yeah, you snapped at me when I was trying to make you feel better."

"You're being over sensitive," Torako said. "That's not like you. But yeah, I'm sorry."

"What, that's it?"

"Yep. Take it or leave it."

...

Tomo, carrying a bag of food Osaka made for her, walked into her apartment to the sound of announcers screaming Portuguese from the television while her husband berated the screen in the same language.

"What's going on in here?" she said, as she walked into the living room. Rico was sprawled out on the couch, the light of their television flickering on his face. "I thought I banned that sort of language here."

"Really horrible football," he said. "Stupid Vitoria, they're going to get bumped to Series B if they keep screwing up." Rico was watching a game his brother recorded for him. He had to go to the local internet café to download the video from his brother's FTP server, and burned it to a disk to watch at home. Rico exercised considerable self-restraint by not looking up results or scores from Vitoria's games. He made sure each game was a fresh experience, although recently they had been disappointing ones.

Tomo glanced at the screen. "Ah, you're watching-", Tomo made a dramatic pause and faced her husband, "-soccer!"

Rico pointed at her, his face stern like a high school principal discovering wrongdoing underneath the bleachers. "That word is never to be used to describe football," he said.

"Hah, you can't tell me what to do, I'm a cop! I'll arrest you for… uh… bad taste in sports!"

"Bad taste?" Rico hopped off the couch to stare down Tomo. "What's baseball? It should be called luckswing. It's out-of-shape guys wearing pajamas and whacking balls with big sticks, which is proof of what a depraved game it is."

Tomo tossed the bag of food on the coffee table. "Oh yeah? It's still better than diveball." She put her hands on her hips and leaned toward Rico. "You can hit a soccer player with a feather and they'll start rolling around on the grass, crying and clutching their knees. What a bunch of wimps."

"What? They only do that so the referee will know they've been fouled."

"Oh enough of that, let's eat," Tomo said. She sat on the floor and started taking the food out of the bag, arranging them on the table.

Rico turned off the DVD player and put the TV on a random channel, just to have something on in the background. He sat down at the table and surveyed the meal. "Mexican food," he sniffed. "Courtesy of the Big O."

"I don't know who this Big O person you're talking about is, but she sounds terrible," Tomo said, unwrapping a banana leaf to reveal a pork tamale. "These are from Osaka."

"Oh, you had to go all the way to Osaka to get these?"

"Ha ha," Tomo said. "You're a riot. And why did you turn your soccer game off? Didn't want to see your team stomped into the ground, eh?"

"Yeah," Rico muttered as he unwrapped a tamale. "I hate soccer." He took a bite while Tomo zealously chomped and chewed away. "These are good," Rico said, "but I'd really like to see her make some moqueca."

Tomo's eyes sparkled in a mischievous plot. "I'm sure she does," Tomo said through her mouth full of food, some of it falling onto the banana leaf. "I mean, she's got all kind of Mexican food."

"Mexican?" Rico said. "Moqueca is Brazilian. Don't even pretend."

Tomo shrugged. "Brazil, Mexico, same thing."

Rico suspended his tamale in mid-air while he stared at Tomo. His face was full of disbelief, despite coming to the realization, long ago, that Tomo was capable of saying and doing anything.

"They are not the same thing," he said. "We don't even speak the same language."

"What? That jibber-jabber isn't Spanish?"

"It's Portuguese!"

"Same thing," Tomo said.

Rico dropped his tamale and launched into a tirade about the differences between Brazil and Mexico while Tomo grinned like a mad idiot. This day off, she decided, was going to be great.


	10. Chapter 10

It was near midnight and Torako sat at Osaka's kitchen table, running the plan through her head to avoid falling asleep. The door to Osaka's apartment opened and Tomo padded in.

"Whew, it's getting chilly," she said, as she walked toward the kitchen.

Torako, sitting in Osaka's merry and tastefully decorated kitchen, barely made a passing glance at Tomo. "Where are your clothes?" she said.

"I'm wearing them," Tomo said.

Torako pointed to Tomo's t-shirt, splotched with the faded pattern of an unfunny sit-com that was canceled mid-season, and her boxer shorts.

"Hey, I live next door," Tomo said, taking a seat. "No big deal. Where's Osaka?"

"She ran out of tea leaves and insisted on running down to the curb store to buy some for us," Torako said. "She should be back shortly."

Tomo picked up Torako's notebook and scanned the contents. "Wait, so we don't talk to them? Just go straight into arrest mode?"

"Yep," Torako said.

Tomo arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. She turned a page. "This is pretty well thought out," she said.

"Yeah, but it assumes too much. Your guy has to be telling the truth, and the two suspicious people will continue to..." Torako trailed off as she searched for the words.

"Keep showing up," Tomo said. "You sound exhausted."

"I don't understand why you aren't," Torako said. "This morning was awful, and then karaoke took a lot out of me. I wish I had half your energy."

"You're just old," Tomo said. She folded a leg underneath her, swinging the other one. "How are we going to recognize the guys when they show up?"

"I'll explain that when Osaka gets back," Torako said, not wanting to tell Tomo that she looked up Jichiro on her own. Torako put her hands on the top of her head and interlaced her fingers. She studied Tomo, and decided to plunge straight into the next subject, the one that had been bothering her since the night they took Monsieur Chien to Asagi's murder scene at the hotel in Ueno.

Torako did the best she could to appear bored. "I noticed Osaka moved the pictures when we came over to eat today."

Tomo, who had been swirling the notebook around like a malfunctioning Tetris piece, stopped and snapped her head toward Torako. "I thought we said we wouldn't talk about that," she said in a low voice.

"We're not," Torako said. "But I'm going to say something. You're going to listen."

Tomo's shirt swelled and dipped with her breathing.

"I'm not going to dig into your private life if you don't want to talk about it. I'm not going to guess why you hid them from me. I'm going to assume you, Osaka, and the girls in the pictures were close. So, I'll say this; in the past year or so since Osaka returned, has she asked you about those girls?"

Torako paused, to wait for an answer or interjection from Tomo. None came, so she continued.

"Has she even mentioned them?"

Torako unraveled her fingers and leaned her elbows on the table. "Do you not think that's the least bit odd? Maybe you need to be the one to talk to her about them?"

Tomo continued her course of non-responsiveness.

"That's it," Torako said.

"Good," Tomo said. "Because you're stupid."

"Wake me up when Osaka gets back," Torako said, laying her head on the table.

...

Earlier that day, Chief Akiyama sat in his office, made stagnant by the closed door, the sealed window, and the shut blinds. He loosened his tie and let the ancient leather recliner take his full weight while he toyed with the idea of taking out his bourbon.

Thelonious Monk was mumbling from the phonograph speakers while his piano made staircase music around Charlie Rouse's eyes-forward tenor sax. The chief, worn out by another wretched day of criminal (and bureaucratic) malfeasance, let his thoughts drift around the music. He felt that odd, false nostalgia for a time he was too young to remember, always brought on by the post-bebop era of Jazz. The Century Series of jet fighters had the same effect.

Monk was Beethoven if the later had lived long enough to write more than thirty-two piano sonatas. A critic once complained that Monk played wrong notes, to which Monk responded by saying that a piano doesn't have wrong notes. Well, in Monk's hands-

"Chief! Chief!" Akiyama jerked out of his reverie as his door burst open, a young office worker gripping the doorknob while he leaned forward and defiled the chief's inner sanctum with his presence.

"What."

"They're back, chief. They broke the vandalism case. They got a wagon bringing in the perpetrators!"

Chief Akiyama stood up and walked toward the ancient phonograph machine. He removed the needle from the record. "What, they can't come up stairs?"

"They're overseeing the suspects being brought in. And, uh... maybe you should go outside and take a look."

The chief walked back behind his desk and opened the top drawer as if it was a cold chamber at a mortuary. He pulled out his prescription antacids, and with one smooth motion popped off the top and poured two tablets into his mouth. He threw the bottle back into the desk after pushing the top back on, and slammed the drawer shut.

"Thanks," he said, as he pushed past the baffled office worker.

...

The convenience store vandalism had exploded into near crime spree proportions the last two days, with several stores being targeted at once, restricting the normally ready tap of police response to a drizzle. The vandals had graduated from baseball bats to explosives, resulting in millions of yen of damage with each attack. The chief had assigned several investigators under Torako and Tomo to help them break the case. Normally, he would be delighted to hear that it had been broken so soon, but having to go outside to see the two fell into the definition of a bad omen.

He exited into the early evening light, saw the two detectives, and knew that he'd have to refill his prescription sooner than expected. A crowd of officers and investigators, murmuring amongst themselves, followed him. Normally there'd be an overflowing of praise and congratulations, but no one wanted to step forward to offer it. It wasn't because of the detectives' dour expressions and exhausted postures, as if they had just won a campaign led by King Pyrrhus. It was because Torako was coated in ash, and Tomo was wearing the bottom half of a violently plaid horse costume.

The chief stood in front of the two with his hands in his pockets. Torako lit a cigarette, snapping her chrome Zippo shut and dropping it in her coat pocket. The lit cigarette, with its wisp of curly smoke, was like a smokestack rising from the sooty Torako.

He took stock of his two detectives. Torako looked no more bored than usual, but Tomo glared into empty space and wouldn't meet the chief's eyes. This was a startling development.

The chief cleared his throat. "Where is your car?"

Tomo jerked her thumb at the black slab of Detroit iron parked behind her. "There," she said, her voice constricted with anger.

"That's my second question," the chief said. "How the hell did you two end up with a 1970 Dodge Challenger R/T?"

"Commandeered it," Torako said. The cigarette bobbed on her thin lips.

"From a friend," Tomo said.

The chief closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose. He pulled his hand away and blinked. "Okay, back to question number one. Where is the Honda Civic Type-R? Your department assigned vehicle?"

Both were silent for a while, and then Tomo said, "It's coming."

"You two need to speak up," the chief said. "I'm told you guys busted the vandalism case. Great. Now stop acting like kids in a detention center and tell me what went on. Where's the car?"

"It's coming," Torako said, her cigarette bobbing. "Chief, could we just put it in our report? I don't want to talk about it."

"We don't want to talk about it," Tomo said.

The murmuring ripple from the office workers roared to a high tide. The chief palmed his forehead in an exaggerated display of astonishment. "Don't want to talk about it? Seriously?" He pointed at them in preparation to launch into a blistering tirade, but was interrupted when he saw a tow truck pull into the parking lot. Towed behind it was the car in question. A deep, metal-rending gash ran from the driver's door to the back passenger door. The front bumper was missing, and the rear lights were shattered. The trunk displayed an impressive collection of bullet holes.

The tow truck parked next to the crowd. The driver poked his head out of the open window and addressed the chief with an amicable smile.

"Hey, can I use your bathroom?"

"No."

The driver's smile turned to vinegar. He punched a button, dropping the Civic onto the parking lot. It bounced once before rippling still. He hopped out of his tow truck and began to unravel the hooks and latches from the car.

"Let's take a look," the chief said. Torako and Tomo's hesitation to follow him lasted just long enough to appear disagreeable instead of insubordinate. They stood a respectful distance behind the chief while he circled the car, surveying the damage.

"Why wasn't this taken to the shop?" he said.

"Wouldn't accept it," Torako said, her bobbing cigarette mocking the chief like a juvenile delinquent flipping off the school counselor. The chief snatched it from her mouth and dropped it on the parking lot. A twinge of shame welled up inside of him, but Torako showed no reaction.

"Why not?" he said. "It may cost a little bit, but all I see it needs is new lights, a new bumper, a new trunk, and these two doors replaced."

The tow truck operator told him he was leaving, and asked him to sign a minutely typed paper sitting on a clipboard. When the chief obliged him, he drove out of the parking lot.

The chief walked closer to the car, peaking into it by way of his hands folding a corridor over the window. He stood in that position for nearly thirty seconds.

"Why is the backseat filled with cream corn?"

"Don't want to talk about it," Tomo said.

The chief turned around to face the two. Tomo was still staring angrily off into the distance. Torako lit another cigarette.

"Okay, it needs the back seat cleaned of cream corn, then. Big deal. It'll be good as new."

"I don't think so, chief," Torako said. This time, she took the cigarette out of her mouth to speak.

"And why is that?"

The hood to the Civic popped open, and a parade of clucking chickens jumped out onto the parking lot. Feathers floated in a halo of corn-fed filth while the twelve hens clucked and pecked at the ground.

The chief didn't bother to look behind him. "The engine's gone, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Torako said.

"It wouldn't do any good for me to ask what happened, would it?"

Torako shrugged.

The chief sighed. "Okay, write up a report. Do it now. I'll read it, but I swear this." The chief held one commanding finger to the two. "If I have any questions, you will answer them. None of this I don't want to talk about it. Clear?"

Both answered yes sir.

"Good. Now clean yourselves up."

Torako and Tomo slowly made their way through the crowd, heading toward their police headquarters while Torako muttered something about going to the shower. The chief ordered his secretary to call animal control immediately, and to get the chief mechanic on the phone and demand they pick up the car.

The chief became more and more angry watching Tomo and her plaid nightmare of horse pants. "Takino, take that thing off."

Tomo turned to face the chief. "I can't."

"Why, is it stuck to you?"

"No, I'm not wearing anything underneath," Tomo said.

"Why not?"

"Well, we ran out of chocolate syrup and the catapult-"

"Get the hell away from me," the chief said.

Tomo proceeded to get the hell away from the chief. She turned to Torako and said, "Tonight, whatever you do, don't ask to see Osaka's bug collection."

...

Torako stood in front of the drink machines, yawned, and debated calling Tomo again. It was 11:50, and she had yet to appear for their stakeout of the Saigo Takamori statue.

Torako was tired, and she wondered if even Tomo was tired. They broke the vandalism case yesterday, ending it in a white-knuckle hell of high-speed chases and PIT maneuvers. Torako wasn't sentimental, but she regretted the fate of the maroon Honda Civic. It was bad enough its engine exploded, but the chickens and cream corn was an insult it should never have had to bear. Good thing the chief didn't open the trunk, Torako thought. No amount of "I don't want to talk about it" would get them out of that predicament.

The use of the Challenger was a happy accident; the parking garage where it was stored was in the neighborhood, and Osaka gave her blessings on using it. The question of why Osaka, of all people, had this roaring metal coffin of Detroit evil was studiously ignored. It had a Hemi V8, allegedly topping at 425 horse power. Shortly after starting it, Torako quickly realized it had been modified and altered far beyond its specs. A quarter mile in less than nine seconds simply isn't natural. If the frame and suspension hadn't been reinforced to racing specs, the car would have torn itself apart.

Unfortunately, it's a forty-year-old American car, and her skilled opponent escaped in his own modified Skyline. The nimble vehicle cut maneuvers the Challenger was too heavy to attempt, and flew between obstacles the Challenger was too big to take. The driver would have escaped, if the detectives working under Torako and Tomo didn't manage to cut him off and force him to take the highway. There, the Challenger entered its natural element; the straight path. No amount of nitrous burning could escape the grinning specter bearing down on the panicking criminal. Then Torako had to fill out the report, clean up, go to Osaka's house to eat…

Okay, snap out of it. Torako rubbed her eyes. I need to get into the now, she thought, not yesterday. She took a deep breath, and looked around her.

The last several days of clear sunny weather gave Ueno Park a needed face-lift. The dismal puddles had flowed back into the Earth's cistern. The chill autumn wind swept away the mud sliming the walkways. The leaves dressed in crimson war paint, prepared for their final mad assault against the cold hard ground.

Osaka was in eyesight, standing in front of the statue of Saigo Takamori. She was drinking hot chocolate from a brown disposable cup, the cap sealed tightly because of her accident-prone nature. The lunch crowd milling around the statue made Torako nervous. She wanted a clear path toward Osaka in case the plan went wrong, although there may not be a plan if Tomo doesn't show up.

Torako checked her watch. 11:51. She lit a cigarette, mostly to have something to do besides check her watch every minute. She would try calling Tomo again in five minutes.

...

Osaka opened her door and greeted Tomo and Rico in her kind and cheerful manner. Tomo's furtive glances around Osaka's clean but cluttered living room cut like a canyon through her rudimentary greetings, trailing off like an inept boy scout on a camping trip.

"I heard you and Torako solved that vandalism case today," Osaka said.

Tomo stiffened. "Don't want to talk about it," she said.

"Oh, okay," Osaka said. "By the way, did you hear about that shaved goat they found-"

I don't want to talk about it, I said!"

Rico's eyes glazed over the instant he was hit by the smell of nostalgia. He floated toward Osaka's kitchen.

"Osaka," he said. "It smells just like my grandmother's!"

"Don't get all carried away," Osaka said. "I never made moqueca before, so I'm going to need your expert opinion."

Rico went to the stove to check the pot while Tomo and Osaka followed him. He lifted the lid and made appreciative hoots of pleasure while Osaka gave him a spoon to dip in and test.

He was like a young boy with his brother stealing tastes from his grandmother's pot. He groaned in pleasure. "Fantastic," he said.

Tomo leaned against the edge of the sink, her arms folded. "Why do you have to make all those gross noises? It's kinda perverted if you ask me."

Any number of comebacks concerning Tomo's use of perverted flooded his head, but he held back the deluge in deference to his host. "You should try some of this before you start tossing scorn everywhere," Rico said. He smacked his lips while his eyes moved upward in thought. "A little too much cilantro, but it won't kill the dish."

Shortly afterward, Osaka greeted the freshly scrubbed Torako. When Torako entered the kitchen, she and Rico began their elaborate greeting ritual with a high five and ended it with a fist bump.

"Stop wasting time feeling each other up," Tomo said. "It's time to eat."

"Hello to you to," Torako said, taking her seat.

Osaka was laying out the dishes, big bowls for the moqueca and a smaller one for the rice, while Rico and Torako conversed. Tomo eyed Torako warily.

"Well, you cleaned up nice."

"Yeah, I had to use some industrial soap," Torako said. "I still smell like smoke, though."

"So you smell normal then, is what you're saying."

"Osaka, may I look at your bug collection?" Torako said. Tomo harrumphed in anger.

"Sure, I'll get it out for ya, just one second." Osaka retreated to her bedroom.

"I told you not to ask her," Tomo hissed at Torako. "And you," she said to Rico, "can stop grinning."

"Can't," Rico said.

"What, watching me suffer is so great?"

"You gotta be so dramatic about it?" Torako said. Unlike Osaka, Torako had little patience for Tomo and Rico's continuous marital disputes.

Tomo jabbed a finger in Torako's direction. "Look at this! A conspiracy to bring me down! Oh, the humanity!"

"Here's some buganity," Osaka said, entering the kitchen. She held a thin glass case with specimens artfully arranged, lacquered, and pinned.

"That's an impressive display of... bugs," Torako said, inspecting the collection. She heard snickering from across the table, which she ignored. "Those two are different than the rest, though. What are they?"

"This one is named Squishy," Osaka said, pointing at an indiscernible lump of viscera and wings. "This one is Stompy."

Torako pointed at a beetle with a broken leg. "Which one is that?"

"James Wilkes Bug," Osaka said. She pointed at a yellow curl near the bottom of the glass display case. "This is one of those bugs that pretend it's a leaf. I ain't never seen one that looked like that before."

Torako bent down and peered at the target of Osaka's explanation. "That's not a bug, that's a potato chip," Torako said.

"What? Really?" Osaka viewed the chip with eyes shining in newfound admiration. "A potato chip disguised as a bug. What will they think of next?"

"Can we eat now?" Tomo shouted from across the table.

...

Torako was ready to pull out her cell phone when she heard Tomo's voice from behind her.

"Hey Torako, sorry I'm late!"

Torako turned around, ready to issue chastisement, but stopped when she saw the black and tan Monsieur Chien sniffing in her direction.

"You brought the dog," Torako said, a wide frown splitting across her mouth. "Why did you do that?"

"Hey, I figured we could do with some backup," Tomo said. "And if he recognizes the scent from the hotel room, well, that's a bonus, right?"

Torako shook her head. "Tomo, he's not an attack dog. He's a scent hound. Don't you dare let go of his leash."

"Hey, don't worry about it, don't worry about it," Tomo said, flapping her hand at the wrist. "I know what I'm doing."

Torako reached into her pocket to light a cigarette before remembering that she already had one in her mouth. She held it and asked, "How did you get him from Mr. Ichiro?"

"Oh, he had to go to Tokyo Airport to help inspect some new beagles they got in. Some lame office worker was filling in, didn't even want to be there. I didn't even have to sign for him. Anyway, enough of that." She looked toward the statue. "Where's our gal Osaka?"

"Don't draw any attention," Torako whispered. "We're supposed to be strangers."

"Yeah yeah, I know, don't worry about it. Geez, you worry."

"One of us has to," Torako said. She viewed Monsieur Chien with disdain as he lay down on the cold concrete.

...

"Great meal!" Rico said. His bowl contained the remains of his third helping. "I hadn't had a good moqueca in years."

"Quite tasty," Torako said. "Well done."

"Yeah, it was okay," Tomo said. "I mean, it's not as good as Japanese cuisine, but really, what is?"

"You just keep talking," Rico said, peering at Tomo from behind his sharp, pointed finger. "Keep it up."

"I'm glad everybody liked it," Osaka said, "I didn't plan much for an encore or whatnot. I guess we can play cards or a board game."

"Hah, there'll be none of that feeble old stuff tonight!" Tomo said. Osaka leaned toward Torako and said, "Feeble?" Torako shrugged.

"Because tonight," Tomo said, her voice as loud as her grin, "we're going to karaoke!" Tomo ejected herself from her seat and produced four tickets from inside her coat. She held them aloft, two to a hand, like a miraculous collection of aces in a late night poker game.

"Oh my god," Rico said. He leaned back into his seat and groaned. Torako's practiced indifference collapsed into a look of serious dismay. Osaka, however, hoisted a triumphant fist and nodded her head in preparation of future karaoke satisfaction. "That's a great idea, Tomo," Osaka said. "I can't hardly wait!"

"See! Osaka's totally into it!" Tomo put the tickets back into her coat and walked over to Osaka, patting her on the shoulder. "Let's tear 'em up, girl!"

"I ate too much to sing," Rico said, weakly patting his chest. "I'll get indigestion."

"Ha! Gluttony is no excuse! Let this be a lesson to you young padawan, so man up and get ready." Tomo sprinted toward the door and stuffed her feet into her shoes. Osaka followed, her face slathered with a dreamy smile. Predictably, Torako and Rico doddered in their seats.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Tomo said. "Don't make me late, there'll be hell to pay. Like, fifteen hundred yen. A piece. I'm talking to you, Rico, and don't try to hide. I know where you live."

Rico sludged out of his seat. "Fifteen hundred yen? What karaoke is worth that much?"

"Ichi-tan's Palace of Karaoke, that's what. Now chop-chop."

Osaka fell backwards as she tried to work her boot onto her foot. Rico took the wise route of making his wife happy and held his grumbling in check as best he could.

"Need to make a phone call," Torako said, lifting herself out of her seat. "I'll meet you guys outside."

...

"That's the guy," Torako said. Tomo watched as a tall man, wearing a Giants baseball cap and dark shades, sat on the bench at the side of the statue. He was wearing a navy blue anorak with the hood tightened over his head. He had an attaché case sitting next to him.

"That's not a lunch box," Tomo said. "Are you sure it's him?"

"And there's guy number two," Torako said, indicating a man dressed nearly identically, also in a baseball cap and dark sunglasses, although he wore a brown cloth jacket instead.

Torako pulled out her civilian phone and texted Osaka, who was leaning on the iron fence surrounding the statue. She pulled out her cell phone, nodded at it, and then turned around and walked away from the fence.

"Let's get ready," Torako said, putting her cigarette in an ashtray. "Don't let go of him."

"I'm not, calm down," Tomo said. She headed toward the opposite side of the statue, blocking the walkway. Torako stood by the drink machines, watching Osaka.

Osaka turned around to face the statue. She put her cup of hot chocolate on the ground, and pulled out her camera, aiming it at the statue. The brown-coated suspect paid no attention to her or anything else. He idled toward the bench.

The man sitting on the bench stood up to leave, leaving his attaché case behind. With his hands in his pockets, he took short purposeful strides, keeping his head down. The second man closed in on the bench, and reached out to grab the handle of the attaché case.

Osaka screamed.

...

"Yeah! A seventy-two!" Tomo pumped her fist in the air while her voice echoed around the room. "Highest score yet! How's that big 'ol log of victory taste?"

The private karaoke room Tomo rented was small, cramped by a pink cloth L-shaped sofa and a cheap laminated table. The walls were pink, with a string of gold colored trinkets draped around the middle like the remains of a failed arts and crafts project.

"Do you have to shout into the mic?" Rico said, after taking a sip of his cocktail. "Besides, Torako made the highest score."

"An eighty-eight," Torako said. She leaned over the table, grabbed the half-empty pitcher, and poured more beer into her pint glass. On the smaller section of the L-shaped sofa sat Osaka, crouched over the LCD remote and using a stylus to scroll through lines of text in search of the next song she wanted to sing.

"That doesn't count," Tomo said, still talking into the mic. "That wasn't singing, that was talking. Why'd you pick that song? _Eyes Without a Face_? So stupid."

"Either that or Bowie," Torako said. "Only ones that fit my singing style."

"What, mumbling? Of course, it doesn't count anyway because you cheated."

Rico made an exasperated sound while Torako pulled out her phone to check a text message. The next song began to play.

"Rico, get up here," Tomo said. "This is a duet! And don't you mess me up, or I'll make you do it again. Take the first verse."

"Yes dear," Rico said, as he stumbled past the table and took the stage. The verse rolled across the screen, and Rico began singing in his wavering baritone.

"Ha sucker!" Tomo said, as she dropped the mic and ran back to the pink sofa. She plopped down hard next to Torako. "If you score less than fifty, you buy us all a round of drinks. So don't think about quitting!"

Rico's voice choked on a word, but he recovered and kept singing. He made a throat slitting motion when he met Tomo's eyes.

"See that!" Tomo said. "Violence against women! The swine!"

"We got another guest coming up," Torako said.

"Oh good, the more the merrier," Tomo said. She took a long sip of her banana daiquiri. "I figured you were inviting somebody. Who is it?"

The door opened and Kazumi Kondo, with her silver hair shining and her haughty eyes flashing, entered the room.

"Dammit Torako," Tomo muttered. Osaka lifted her head from the LCD remote, her hair sweeping across the screen.

"Torako, thanks for inviting me," Kazumi said, bowing toward her. She turned toward Tomo and feigned politeness. "Tomo, nice to see you."

"Thanks," Tomo said, crossing her arms.

Kazumi moved around the front of the table to the second part of the couch, sitting between Torako at the curve of the L and Osaka on the outside. Kazumi introduced herself to Osaka.

Osaka met her with a bright smile. "Can you field strip an M4 assault rifle?"

Kazumi's mouth remained opened too long for polite company. "No, I lack that ability."

"Good," Osaka said. She returned to her LCD remote and scrolled further.

Kazumi leaned over toward Torako and Tomo. "So, who's that singing?"

"Rico-

"My husband!"

"-Watanabe," Torako said. "Tomo's husband."

Kazumi and Torako made polite chitchat, with the occasional testy interjection from Tomo. Rico eventually finished his song to lukewarm and sarcastic applause.

"A sixty-one," he said to Tomo. "Your plan failed."

"It got you to sing, though, didn't it?"

"That was my third song!"

"Sorry," Tomo said. "The first two don't count."

Rico and Kazumi introduced themselves, with Kazumi commenting on his height and muscular build. Tomo grabbed Rico by the arm and pulled him down next to her, sitting him between herself and Torako. Torako scooted over to make room, so Kazumi moved over, bumping into the unbudging Osaka.

Kazumi said she knew what song she wanted to sing. She grabbed the extra handheld LCD remote, jabbed the screen with the stylus, and took to the stage. When Kazumi started singing, Tomo leaned across Rico, putting her arm around his neck to support her weight.

"Why did you invite her?" she said to Torako.

"The more the merrier," Torako said. Tomo scowled in response.

"I'm not telling you two to be best friends, or to even like each other," Torako said. "But if the two of you could stop clawing at each other for one day, well, the atmosphere at the office would be a tad less suffocating."

"So why's she here again?"

"So you two can learn to be civil around each other," Torako said. "Or at least come to an accord."

Osaka tossed her remote on the table, making a dull wooden clatter. "I found me the right song! I get to go next." She looked toward the stage and jerked backwards. "Whoa, where'd she come from?"

...

"Thief!" Osaka screamed. "He's stealing your bag! Police, police!"

Osaka cracked the air with her Kansai bombardment. Her fiery vocal assault stunned happy families taking pictures and officer workers on their lunch break, as well as the two suspects. One child started crying.

Tomo played her part, immediately rushing toward Osaka, Monsieur Chien in tow. Tomo pulled out her badge. "I'm a police officer," she said. "Where's the thief?"

"There!" Osaka said, jabbing an accusatory finger at the brown-coated man. Torako came in from the other side, prepared to back up Tomo if it came down to a physical confrontation.

The man in the anorak ran down the walkway into the park. Tomo pocketed her badge and immediately ran after him, Monsieur Chien joining the pursuit.

The man in the brown jacket grabbed the attaché case, and dove up the stairs to exit the park, but Torako stood in front of him and produced her badge.

"Fleeing the scene of the crime?" she said. "You need to fill out a report."

The man smiled like Harry Lime and ran toward the fence.

...

Osaka took the stage after Kazumi had finished her performance.

"Tear it up, Osaka," Tomo said between cupped hands. "Sing us some Round Table."

"Nah, I got something else," Osaka said.

Kazumi leaned in toward Torako. "Is Osaka really her name?"

"Nickname," Torako said.

"I can guess who came up with it," she said. "Before I forget, I'd like to thank you for inviting me. I appreciate it."

Before Torako could answer, a savage sonic assault of evil electric death terrorized the party. Osaka, posed so that her hair draped over her face, lifted the mic to her lips.

"OOOUAHHHAAA GWAAAARAA HAAAAAHRR," she sang. "MUWEAARRGAAHHAA NYAAAAGHA!"

"Oh come on!" Tomo shouted.

Rico began snickering before breaking into a full-bodied laugh. He held his sides as he leaned over the table. Kazumi pressed her hands over her ears.

"She's singing in white noise," Kazumi said, awe and disgust contorting her face. "What is that?"

Torako picked up Osaka's LCD remote and cycled through her selection. "Drudkh," she said.

"What?"

"Black metal. From Ukraine." Torako scrolled further, swiping the screen with her long aristocratic finger. "She's got Alcest and Mael Mordha queued up next."

"More metal? Ugh, why?"

"My guess is because they don't have any Los Tigres Del Norte." Torako noticed the confusion on Kazumi's face. "Don't try to understand it, it's Osaka."

"Hey, what's so funny?" Tomo said, grabbing Rico's shoulder and shaking it. "This is a disaster."

Rico sat up and wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes. "No it's not, it's awesome. Listen to her."

"Are you serious? She's a monster."

"Oh come on, that's a little too far."

"There you go standing up for her again," Tomo said, and the argument was on.

Kazumi observed the couple's bickering. "Are they always like this?" She had to lean in close to Torako, to avoid having to shout over Osaka's unique vocal delivery.

Torako was fixated on Osaka, and had to tear herself away to answer. "Pretty much," she said. "Don't worry about it. Their whole marriage is based around antagonizing each other. The day they don't argue is the day their marriage is in trouble. Annoying as hell, but..." Torako shrugged to finish her thought.

"Well, if it works for them, good," Kazumi said. She turned to watch Osaka and listen to her primeval caterwauling. "I don't know about her, though. She's weird. And a little disturbing."

"Nah," Torako said. "Osaka's a sweetheart."

...

Tomo shouted "Halt!" at the running figure, who dodged between the cringing park visitors while Tomo yelled for someone to stop him. Controlling Monsieur Chien was an added level of difficulty, as he brayed and pulled against his leash, nearly jerking it out of her hand.

The walkway was approaching a clump of azalea bushes that led into a grassy clearing, and Tomo's police instinct told her he was going to break for that. She decided to pull out her badge and shout commands at the civilians to stop him, so she reached into her pocket.

Monsieur Chien tugged at his leash again, and Tomo tripped on a crack in the concrete. Unable to get her balance with her hand in her pocket, the leash jerked out of her hand and she fell onto the concrete, rolling several times before coming to a stop. Monsieur Chien brayed and ran after the criminal in full speed, the dog's leather leash clattering against the walkway.

Tomo felt a dull throb enter her ankle, and warm liquid drip over her eye. She stood up, wiped the blood out of her eye, and pulled out her badge.

"Someone stop that man!" she shouted. The fleeing suspect glanced over his shoulder. He made a sharp left turn off the walkway into a clump of large azalea bushes, and Monsieur Chien bounded after him.

Tomo did the best she could to follow, being careful not to put pressure on her hurt foot. Her nerves began sprouting sensations of pain on her arms, head, and legs. Tomo pushed away people trying to help her as she stumbled toward the suspect's break-off point.

A man screamed in pain. An animal yelped and whimpered.

"Chien!" she shouted. She rushed toward where she saw the two disappear. She turned left, and beat through the azalea bushes.

"Monsieur Chien," she shouted. She pushed through the other side and saw Monsieur Chien lying on the ground, breathing heavily, with blood pooling around his neck. Blood was on his fangs.

Tomo dropped into the dirt, the pain receding into a minor note playing in the back of her head. She reached out to touch Monsieur Chien's head, but pulled away quickly when he tried to nip her. She did not see the fleeing suspect.

"Shit," Torako said behind her.

"Torako," Tomo said. "He got stabbed. Where- did you get your guy?" Tomo wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Got away," Torako said. "Are you okay?"

Tomo nodded.

Torako sighed, pulled out her police radio, and dialed into the Ueno frequency.

"Office down, K-9 unit, knife wound. Need veterinarian assistance immediately." Torako rattled off the co-ordinates listed on the radio's GPS, and looked around to give landmarks.

The smallest edge of fear was in Tomo's voice. "We're in trouble, aren't we?"

Torako pulled out her cigarette and lit it. She inhaled, removed the cigarette, and exhaled. "Yeah," she said. "Can't be helped."

"Good lord," a voice came from behind him. Two Ueno Park police officers showed up in front of them, where the grassy field began. Several people kept a respectful distance. Some parents tried to rush their children away from the sad spectacle of a bleeding dog.

"We got your message, ma'am," one of the guards said. "I put it in to the vet we use, but he ain't going to be here for a while." He looked down at Monsieur Chien. "I'm sorry, but the way he looks, I'm not sure he's going to make it."

The other officer leaned down over Chien. He reached out toward the dog's neck, but Monsieur Chien nipped at his hand too. The guard barely pulled it away in time.

"Someone help him," Tomo said.

"Ma'am, you look like you could use some help yourself," one of the guards said. He pulled out his handkerchief and gave it to Tomo. "Hold it to that gash there on your head. That might need stitches."

Tomo took the handkerchief and blew her nose on it. She shook as she watched the life pass from Monsieur Chien.

"I've got to help him," she said again, in a quiet, childish voice.

Irritation welled up inside Torako's stomach. She turned away and scanned the surrounding area. She heard people talking, and a trumpeting elephant in the distance. Tomo had seen people get hurt and even killed, and made jokes about it. But a dog gets stabbed...

Wait, Torako thought. An elephant?

Torako turned to the standing officer. "Ueno Zoo. Call their vet."

The standing officer snapped his fingers. "Yeah,

Doc Inoue! Why didn't I think of that?" He pulled out his radio and began rattling off the request. He walked around the perimeter of the clearing, keeping the crowd away while he waited for a response.

Torako continued to smoke the cigarette, and noticed the squatting officer peering at her. He stood up.

"You said officer down. Got a badge?"

With the cigarette dangling in her lips, Torako produced her badge. The officer glanced at it.

"This is outside your jurisdiction, ain't it? What are you doing here?"

Torako blew smoke. "My job," she said. "And apparently yours."

"Doc Inoue can't make it," the second officer said, returning from his peripatetic emergency call. "Some kind of breach birth with an orangutan or something. But there's a visiting vet from another clinic, and she's coming right over to fix this little officer up." The second officer switched a glance between his partner, who had turned white and was radiating hate, and the nonchalant Torako. He shrugged and walked over toward Monsieur Chien and squatted down over him, watching his shallow, pained breathing. Tomo jerked her head and stared at Torako.

"Torako," she said. "I can't be here."

Torako, who was staring at the speechless officer, turned toward Tomo. She was going to say something terse, but stopped when she noticed that Tomo herself was turning pale.

"You okay?" Torako said. She surveyed Tomo's damage: a bloody gash on her forehead, blood soaking the elbow of her coat and blood on the left knee of her pants leg. "I think you got hurt more than you realize."

Tomo shook her head. "No, I can't be here, I know who's coming. I can't... I can't see her."

Torako removed her cigarette and grimaced. "What?"

"I see 'em," the officer said. He pointed to a yellow electric cart with the insignia of the Ueno Zoo stamped on the side. The cart had the driver, wearing a blue jumpsuit with the Zoo insignia on the back, and the veterinarian, dressed warmly, and wearing a white lab coat. She hopped out of the cart before it stopped, carrying a large black bag.

She strode toward the group, her long black hair flowing behind her. "Where's the patient?" she said, and stopped short when she saw Tomo. A flash of anger crossed her face, while Tomo only stared upward, expressionless.

Tomo desperately wished she could be somewhere else, instead of being here, seeing Sakaki, for the first time in eight years.


	11. Chapter 11

"So what you're saying," Osaka said, the luster in her eyes dulling as the night dragged on, pouring tea from her brown betty teapot, "is that I should run off after I shout 'thief'?"

"That's right," Torako said, as her hand hovered over the platter, reaching for a cookie that was snatched away by Tomo's inconsiderate hand. "Do your bit, and get out as soon as possible."

"Ugh, what is the stuff?" Tomo said, as she clattered Osaka's porcelain teacup into its saucer, a rose pattern etched around its lip. Tea spilled onto Osaka's tablecloth. "It tastes like sludge!"

"Naw Tomo, it's Earl Grey," Osaka said. "From England."

"Oh, no wonder," Tomo said, as she placed a half-eaten cookie onto the platter, arranging the signs of her teeth marks so that they faced Torako. "Nothing good comes from England."

"What? But they make the best black teas," Osaka said.

"Don't," Torako said. "Waste of time. Let's get back to the plan."

Tomo hopped out of her chair and dashed toward the kitchen. "Osaka sees them make the trade, shouts thief, we run up and corral them, justice is served, blah blah blah." Tomo rifled through Osaka's refrigerator before settling on a can of coffee. "We get it, so move on to the next item."

Torako, as was her custom, frowned. "Let's make sure we get it right," she said.

Tomo pulled open the tab on the can, foamy coffee seeping out of the drink hole and lathering the top. "Oh come on, Torako. What could possibly go wrong?"

...

Dr. Sakaki, keeping her heavy black bag steady, made use of her long sturdy legs as she strode past Torako, who reinserted her cigarette and took a drag while mining the valleys of her memory, trying to place where she had seen Sakaki before. The police officer who was glaring at Torako turned his slow attention toward Sakaki's stately stride as she approached the bleeding dog. Sakaki crouched, putting her bag next to her curved knees.

"Why hasn't first aid been performed?" Sakaki said, opening her bag. The question was barbed with weary expectation, like a high school principal expecting only lies and rationalizations from his errant students.

"He keeps tryin' to bite," said the buck-toothed officer, standing behind Tomo.

"Someone hold his head so I can treat these wounds," Sakaki said. From her bag she pulled out a syringe and a needle, attaching the two, and a bottle of ketamine, its liquid crystal-clear like its promise of sleep.

Tomo, still squatting next to Monsieur Chien's prone form, reached out a tentative hand to the dog's head. Tomo pulled her hand back as Chien nipped air.

Sakaki made an exasperated grunt and reached for Monsieur Chien's head. Chien made his aim true, clomping down on Sakaki's hand. Sakaki gripped Chien's jaw and pushed his head down into the grass, he whimpering at the pain. Tiny threads of blood unspooled from Sakaki's hands, traveling down Chien's fangs. Sakaki jabbed the needle into Chien's neck vein, and a slow rattling hiss escaped from the dog's mouth, like a coal-powered train expelling steamy pressure after stopping at a station.

"Nice bedside manner," Torako muttered from behind her.

"I need room," Sakaki said, turning her head at an awkward angle toward Torako. "Back away please." She turned her head in the other direction toward the buck-toothed officer, her field of vision traveling over Tomo's head toward her target, like an arc made by a V2 rocket. "I called my assistant," Sakaki said. "Please lead him here."

"Yes ma'am."

Tomo stood up from her crouch and hopped toward the buck-toothed officer, putting a hand on his shoulder to support her weight. Sakaki removed her hand from the comatose dog's fangs and, with her unwounded hand, pulled a spool of gauze from her bag, rapidly winding it around her damaged hand.

"Ma'am, I'm calling you a doctor," the buck-toothed officer said to Tomo, leading her over to Torako. "You don't need to put pressure on that ankle. It looks bad."

"I'll call one," the other officer said, glaring at Torako while he spoke. "I'll request some backup as well. Make sure the vet's assistant gets here, Takeshi."

"You got it boss," Takeshi, the buck-toothed officer, said as he made a sarcastic military salute at the departing officer. Tomo let go of him and limped toward Torako, placing her hand on her shoulder, which Torako stiffened to support Tomo's weight.

"You making it?" Torako said, unnerved at Tomo's uncharacteristic morose silence.

"No," Tomo said.

...

The other officer, named Ichizo, arrived on an electric cart, painted in the black and white with a faded Police decal slapped on the front. Ichizo said a doctor was coming. He leaned over the wheel and stared at Sakaki, occasionally giving Torako and Tomo a green-eyed glare, full of sadistic glee.

Sakaki made quick work of the tranquilized Monsieur Chien, stopping the flow of blood and cleaning his wound, suturing and bandaging it. The emergency animal transport from her veterinarian clinic arrived and parked on the grassy field, the driver hopping out with a stretcher to help carry the dog.

Sakaki, with her own wounded hand bandaged, stood and addressed Torako directly. Tomo looked askance while Sakaki extended little mental effort to not register Tomo in her peripheral vision.

"Here's my card," Sakaki said, handing her business card to Torako. Torako, the stub of her cigarette hanging nonchalant from her inflexibly straight mouth, took it and handed Sakaki her own card.

"Someone will call you tonight," Torako said.

Sakaki didn't respond as she turned around and helped her assistant carry Monsieur Chien into the van, securing him in a cage. She stepped into the passenger side and stared ahead as he drove away.

Takeshi watched them go, giving an appreciative whistle. "Man, that had to be a Valkyrie," he said. He turned to Torako and grinned at her, like she was one of the guys. "She's what, one hundred and eighty centimeters? At least. You know, if-"

"Takeshi, disarm these two," Ichizo said.

The wolfish grin dissolved into a buck-toothed gape, baffled and confused. "Disarm them?"

Ichizo stepped onto the ground, cutting through the grass with his immaculately polished police issue boots. He hooked his thumbs into his pants pockets, his self-important sneer not looking away from Torako's bored, indifferent stare.

"Yeah, disarm them," Ichizo said. "They're out of their jurisdiction. I called their main office, and they have no idea why they're over here. I called the Ueno headquarters, and they're going to send someone over here to interview 'em." He turned his stare to Takeshi. "Disarm them."

Takeshi shrugged and approached the two. "I apologize, officers," Takeshi said. He held out his arm. "I'll be relieving you of your weapons."

Torako, while staring at Ichizo, unhooked her shoulder holster, handing it and the gun it held to Takeshi. Tomo reached into her trench coat and pulled out her bokken, nearly flinging it at Takeshi as if she couldn't wait to get rid of it. She was still staring at the empty patch of ground that once held Monsieur Chien's bleeding body, as if expecting a ghostly residue to be left behind, an aura of his fading warmth burned into the dirt.

Takeshi took their weapons, looping Torako's gun belt over his shoulder while he tried to figure some way to hold Tomo's bokken. He nearly stuffed it into his pants before remembering he was in the presence of ladies. He stuck it into his belt instead, the wooden sword parallel with the length of his skinny leg.

"Take their badges, Takeshi."

"No, I'm good," Torako said.

Takeshi made an inquisitive glance at Ichizo, whose sanctimonious grin turned into a tense frown. "Maybe you didn't hear me," Ichizo said, addressing Torako. "I told you to hand over your badge."

"You aren't my chief," Torako said. "You don't get to ask."

"Now Ichizo, I don't think we need to take their badges," Takeshi said.

Ichizo unhooked his thumbs and hovered one hand over the gun in his side holster. "How about you cooperate and hand over your badge?"

Torako removed the remains of her cigarette, and flicked it at Ichizo. It rocketed in a perfect forty-five degree arc, as if measured with a protractor, before slapping Ichizo in the forehead and dusting his face with ash.

"How about you kiss my ass?" Torako said.

Ichizo made fists and lunged at Torako, who didn't budge. Tomo lifted her hand from her shoulder and tried to back away.

Takeshi jumped in front of Ichizo and restrained him, Tomo's wooden sword sliding out of his belt and making a soft thunk against the ground. "Hold on, Ichizo," he said, pushing away his struggling superior. "She's right you know, you can't ask for her badge."

Ichizo and Takeshi's radios cracked with the breaking voice of the koban clerk, announcing the arrival of the doctor.

Red faced and breathing heavily, Ichizo stiffened himself and pushed Takeshi away. "Okay," he said, glaring at Torako. "Take 'em back to the koban."

...

Osaka laid her head on the table while Tomo cleared out the remaining chocolate chip cookies. Torako flipped through the last page of her plan folder, shut it with a sigh, and plopped it on the table.

"We're as ready as we're ever going to be," Torako said, leaning back in her chair and staring at the ceiling.

"Ihf a peesh uh cah," Tomo said. She swallowed her cookie. "It's a piece of cake, as long as no crazy people show up and interfere. Like the uyoku dantai."

Torako moved her head and faced Tomo, one eyebrow arched. "What brought that up?"

"Oh, they came and bothered my husband several days ago," she said, taking a sip from her second can of cold coffee. "At his job."

Torako furrowed her brow, the curls of her frown deepening. "Were they driving a black Toyota Crown? Three guys with suits and ties?"

"Yeah," Tomo said. "Why?"

"They bothered my mother at work," Torako said. "Back in Kakogawa."

Tomo put down her half eaten cookie. "Torako," she said. "Do you know what this means?"

"It means her dad married a foreigner," Osaka said, her sleepy voice echoing from the table and her curled arms. "Has anyone told him yet?"

"Osaka, go to bed," Tomo said.

Osaka lifted her head, stretched, and got out of her chair. "Lock up behind you," she said, floating ghostlike toward her bedroom. "I'm getting pulverized by the bees." Osaka shut the door behind her.

Tomo shook her head in muted amazement, and picked up her cookie. "Do we assume it's the same guys? Bit of a drive though."

"Let's assume the same organization," Torako said, rubbing her chin. "We're running on hunches now, and I hate that."

Tomo shrugged. "Well, is it a coincidence then? Your mom and my husband getting spied on at work by three guys in suits and ties in a Toyota Crown? Sounds like we're bothering some people with our poking around."

"That means we've been found out," Torako said, staring at Tomo's face, dotted with crumbs and smeared with chocolate. "Not good."

"Hey, we're grabbing those guys tomorrow, anyway," Tomo said. "No worries!"

...

The doctor treated Tomo's wounds inside the Ueno Park koban. The cuts on her knee and elbow were minor abrasions, wounds that would heal over time. The gash on her forehead, while bloody, was minor enough to require only cleaning and bandaging.

Tomo's ankle, however, was strained. "You should have put it on ice," the doctor said, as she wrapped a thick bandage around Tomo's foot. "It would've prevented this swelling. Be sure to see your doctor for a checkup." Tomo didn't bother to tell her that she didn't have the chance.

The doctor left, and Tomo and Torako sat on an old brown leather couch, cracked and dry from never being oiled. The bucked-toothed Takeshi was in the office, writing on a legal pad while the office clerk, a young man recently out of high school, whispered passionate pleas into his personal cell phone.

Ichizo sat in a chair by the swinging door leading outside, leaning back and watching Tomo and Torako while waiting for the investigator from the Ueno district headquarters to arrive. Torako slouched and wondered when the old Tomo would come back, while Tomo stretched and curled the toes on her damaged foot.

Torako leaned in toward Tomo. "Sakaki," she said. "Was she one of your high school friends?"

Tomo continued curling her toes. "Don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," Torako said, sitting up. "I won't pry."

Eventually, Hayakawa arrived.

...

There was no interrogation room in the koban, so the front door was locked, and the blinds were closed to prevent unwanted sightseeing. Tomo and Torako remained seated on their couch.

The young inspector Hayakawa masked his inexperience with condescending arrogance toward those he considered unimportant, treating them with amused contempt, and ingratiating cunning toward those he knew to be important, along with a willingness to make himself their dog for the sake of his own advancement. Tomo and Torako quickly, and correctly, guessed that this was the "cheap brat with a badge" Ms. Ando had spoken about.

"Well, detectives, we do have a problem here," he said, straddling a chair, his arms crossed over the back. Ichizo and Takeshi stood sentry next to him, Ichizo nearly matching his condescending smile.

"I mean, I won't stop you from committing career suicide, if that's what you want," he said, gesturing at his chest as he said 'I', his voice full of knowing contempt. "Pulling some sting operation in another district, or another ward I should say, is bad enough, but I hear you got a K9 unit wounded in the line of duty. Tsk, tsk."

Hayakawa stood up, rotated his chair, and sat down on the edge while he clasped his hands together. He would make use of many hand gestures during his one-sided interview with the two.

"Well, do you have anything to say in your defense? What were you two doing here?"

"Sting operation," Torako said. "Trying to bust vandals."

"Would this happen to be related to the string of convenience store vandalisms going on in your ward?"

"Yeah," Torako said.

"Oh, well, pardon me," Hayakawa said. "I was under the mistaken impression that that case had been closed. How about yourself, Ichizo," he said, turning his head toward Ichizo but keeping his sadistic eye on Torako. "Did you hear that case was broken?"

"That's what I heard, sir," Ichizo said. Takeshi shifted, leaning against the doorjamb, watching the floor. The clerk in the front office leaned back in his chair and glanced through the doorway.

"That's what I thought." Hayakawa shifted into an angry frown, his eyes narrowed and his lip curled back in a sneer, like a wild dog ready to bite. "You're lying to me detective. I don't like being lied to."

Tomo clapped, rapidly and obnoxiously. This was such an unexpected response that Torako's enforced mask of disregard couldn't hide her surprise. Even Hayakawa was taken aback, his anger transforming into confusion.

"Wow, that's just like the cop dramas," Tomo said, when she finished clapping. "How many did watch to say all that? I bet you practice in the mirror a lot, huh?"

Welcome back, Torako thought. Tomo's moods, unlike other peoples' moods, didn't crest and dip in a continuous wave; they remained maddeningly inert, like argon, or horrendously explosive, like a block of sodium dumped in water.

Hayakawa did not see the charm in this. "You think this is funny," he said, like a bored announcer in the eleventh inning of a tied baseball game. "With your hurt foot. How about you stay out of this and let us grown-ups have a conversation," he said, flicking his hand back and forth between him and Torako.

Torako turned to Tomo and asked, "So, what do you want to talk about?"

"How about the importance of personal hygiene amongst civil servants?" Tomo said.

"Don't have the stomach for it. Let's discuss grown men who still need to be dressed by their mothers."

Hayakawa's chair clattered against the floor. He was standing over the two, breathing heavily, his hands clenching and unclenching. Tomo involuntarily moved in her damaged foot, as if it was trying to burrow under the couch. Hayakawa saw this and smiled, considering it a victory; you're scared of me, his smile said. However, any sense of triumph he felt was drained away by Tomo's look of masterful idiocy, blasting the area like a stun grenade, making Hayakawa question his psychological breakthrough. Takeshi broke out of his lean and took a step toward Hayakawa, uncrossing his arms. Ichizo put out a restraining hand on his shoulder. Don't interfere, his expression said.

The unimaginative Hayakawa became intimidating the only way he knew how: by getting in people's faces. He leaned down, inches away from Torako's bored face.

"I know you're doing this for her," he said. "She put you up to this, didn't she?"

"At the risk of sounding like those clichéd cop dramas you watch," Torako said, careful to freeze her expression, "I have no idea who you're talking about."

Hayakawa backed away, his face coated with mock disappointment. "I'm sorry we have to do it this way," he said, picking up his chair. "I'll have to take you back to headquarters and interrogate you properly. But if you want to be treated like a suspect instead of a fellow officer, then-"

Someone began banging on the locked glass door, hard. The closed blinds bounced with each hit. Takeshi made toward the door.

"Don't let them in," Ichizo said.

Takeshi peeked through the blinds. "They're cops," he said, unlocking the door. He pinned himself against the wall as Kazumi Kondo and a huge uniformed officer marched through.

"Kazumi Kondo, Kojimachi district, Chiyoda ward," she said, displaying her badge. "I'm here to escort the officers back to their headquarters."

"Escort?" Hayakawa said. He grinned, blocking Kazumi's path with an arm propped against the wall. "I'm sorry, but we're in the middle of an interrogation. So you'll probably just be escorting yourself, officer."

"It was cleared with your chief. Call him if you want, but we're not waiting," Kazumi said. The officer with her pushed past Hayakawa, and Kazumi followed, both approaching Torako and Tomo.

"Kazumi, look!" Tomo said, standing up and sticking her bandaged foot at Kazumi. "They smashed my foot with a bat when I wouldn't talk!"

"What? That's not true!" Ichizo said, seeing the large uniformed officer with Kazumi give him the evil eye.

"And they made Torako reupholster the furniture! It was awful!"

Kazumi came into the koban knowing that she'd need to be wearing her game face, all seriousness without the slightest hint of fear or humor, if she expected to hold her on. Tomo's act demolished her well-constructed wall of confidence, leaving it rubble.

"You can't get away with this," Hayakawa said.

"Officers," Torako said, addressing Ichizo and Takeshi. "I'd like my gun, please."

"Yeah, and swordy!" Tomo said.

...

The drive back to headquarters was glum and, for the most part, silent. The uniformed officer dove while Kazumi sat up front. She said the atmosphere at work was oppressive, with dark clouds of fear and apprehension suffocating any optimistic thought. They didn't know everything, of course - Tomo and Torako were ordered to report to the chief - but they knew it involved unauthorized police activity in another district, leaving an unsigned K9 officer wounded. Kazumi wished them luck.

During the ride, Tomo said, "I'll take the blame."

Torako studied Tomo with detached amusement. "Why? I'm the one who set it up and pushed you in to it."

"Yeah, but I blew it when I took Chien with us," Tomo said, her stomach souring at the memory of the wounded dog. "I'm sorry I messed it up."

Torako was touched by the unexpected apology, and tried to hide it behind her normal bored frown. "Thank you," she said. "But don't take any bullets for me with the chief." Torako was overcome with gratitude for her partner, bandaged and wounded, terrified and perhaps traumatized, having the presence of mind to apologize and even try to protect her. Ignoring her instincts and past experience with Tomo, Torako put her arm around Tomo and squeezed her near.

Tomo leaned her cheek on Torako's shoulder, and said, "Gay."

"I knew it was a trap," Torako muttered, pushing the grinning Tomo away.

...

They walked the gallows of their headquarters, headed toward the execution chamber - chief Akiyama's office. The remaining office workers did their best to act normal, but whispered conversation and heavy glances trailed behind Tomo and Torako. Neither knew how to handle what would be in store.

The two entered Akiyama's silent office and shut the door behind them. He was standing at the window, his back facing them, appearing as if he didn't notice their entrance. He watched the street below while Tomo and Torako took a seat and waited. They didn't know if they should start talking, or wait for the chief.

The chief said, "How stupid do you guys think I am?"

Tomo looked at Torako before looking at the chief's back. "Is this multiple choice, or one of those oral exams?"

Torako shook her head in amazement at Tomo's complete disregard of the present situation. It would almost be admirable, if her own neck wasn't on the line too.

The chief turned around. His granite and hawkish face did not reveal severe emotions, like anger or disappointment. Instead, it was soft. He was concerned. He didn't sit behind the desk in his old leather executive chair, but walked around to the front of the desk and leaned against it, facing the two.

"I knew what you guys were up to from the very start."

Torako reached for a cigarette, but put it back when she remembered where she was. The chief saw this, and smiled, taking the two by surprise.

"Try this," the chief said. He reached behind his desk and pulled open a drawer, withdrawing a humidor. He opened the wooden box, displaying a collection of comically huge La Flor Dominicana Salomon cigars.

"Take one," the chief said. "On me."

Torako reached into the humidor and picked one up. The chief handed her a cigar cutter, which she used, neatly cutting the massive cigar. She was about to display her Zippo when the chief pulled out his own lighter, a blue chrome Bugatti 3 flame lighter, tossing it to Torako. He pulled out an ashtray, setting it on the front of his desk, and walked toward the switch panel at the door, turning on the vent. It whirled into a roaring drone.

"You want one, Tomo?" the chief said, offering her the humidor.

"No thanks, chief," Tomo said, smirking at Torako inhaling on her cigar. "I don't cosplay as a male."

The chief closed his humidor while Torako puffed on her cigar. Despite the vent, Torako's cigar bombarded the room with cherry and chocolate, and Tomo was getting impatient.

"Chief, what's going on? How did you know?"

The chief shook his head and grunted. "Guys, I was a detective for fifteen years before they made me a desk jockey. I check everything, and I mean everything. I checked into Ms. Ayase's past, Torako, and found out you two were friends. I knew something was up when you took her computer here instead of to the Ueno lab. I knew about you guys grabbing the Civic for your late night romps in the park, and taking Ms. Kasuga along with you."

"Who?" Tomo said.

"I had to run interference when you guys got sloppy. For the most part, you did great. If this was a normal internal affairs deal, no one would ever have been suspicious." The chief cleared his throat, and began to speak in a hushed tone, like an ancient priest revealing the innards of a sacred text. "But the National Public Safety Commission? No way in hell. I can't describe the interference I had to run to keep you guys going this long."

"Chief," Tomo said, "you knew all this and let us get away with it?"

"Yeah," the chief said, his mouth muscles tensing as the past shoved itself into his memories, unbeckoned and unwanted. "I was in the exact same situation."

Tomo hazard a guess. "The black water incident?"

The chief snapped his head to attention, his eyes clearing their glaze. "How'd you know about that?"

"Oh, some bum in the park told me," Tomo said. "Jichiro, used to be a policeman."

"Jichiro," the chief said. "How would he know about that?"

"What's this about?" Torako said, tapping ashes into the ashtray.

"My partner was murdered, twenty years ago," the chief said. "A private inquest was held, but it was postponed before a verdict was made, and immediately sealed by internal affairs."

"A cover-up," Tomo said, riveted.

"Yeah, pretty much. I decided to break it, get to the bottom of it." The chief scratched the back of his head as his gaze circled around the room, not looking at his audience. "You can't be a detective and not find out who killed your partner. It'll make you look either incompetent, or responsible for the murder." The chief shrugged. "Besides, I liked the guy. Long story short, the murderer was another policeman, the son of... well... a very important public official."

Torako squinted through her smoke. "Twenty years ago? I don't remember hearing or reading about this."

"Yeah, because it was covered up again," the chief said, a deep frown etched across his face. "There was no way they'd let this out to the public. They were going to make me take the fall for the murder, so I..." The chief sighed and looked away. "I pretty much threatened and blackmailed my way out of it. Instead of getting framed for murdering my own partner, or getting killed myself, they dump me here." He raised his arms, presenting his kingdom. "They were hoping I'd quit, but I stayed and turned this place around."

"No offense chief," Tomo said, "but to be called the black water incident, I was hoping it would be more... intense?"

"Well, there's a lot more to it than that," the chief said, clearing his throat. "But that's the gist of it."

The group was silent for a while. Torako put out her cigar and placed it in her pocket, planning to smoke it later.

"Not used to cigars," Torako said. "Dizzy."

The chief picked up the ashtray and walked into his private bathroom, flushing the ashes down the toilet and washing the ashtray in the sink. He came back and put it in the desk before walking up front and leaning against it.

"So, now, the hard part," he said. "Typically, you guys would be fired and arrested. People have been screaming for blood the last hour. Instead, it's going to be two weeks unpaid suspension."

"Thank you chief," Torako said. "I'm sorry for causing you this trouble."

The chief held out a hand, stopping Torako. "Let me rephrase that. It's going to look like two weeks unpaid suspension to the outside world. What will really happen depends on you two."

The duo looked at each other before facing the chief. "What do you mean?" Tomo said.

"Torako," the chief said, facing her directly. "Do you want to find Asagi's murderer?"

"Yes," Torako said, her voice shuddering with determination. "Probation or threat of jail wouldn't stop me."

The chief turned to Tomo. "Takino?"

"If she's in it, I'm in it," Tomo said, serious. The words barely left her mouth when she was overcome with a powerful longing to see her husband.

"Okay then," the chief said. He took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm going to get you guys a writ ex nihilo."

Torako gripped the armrests of her chair, and leaned forward. "Chief," she said, amazed like a child watching her first fireworks display.

"Wait, a writ what now?" Tomo said, confusion flashing in her eyes.

"A writ ex nihilo," Torako said. "A signed, secret document giving us supralegal authority to solve a case, including sealed ones, any way we see fit. Protects us from getting arrested, unless the Supreme Court orders it. Has to be signed by a judge from the high court."

"Okay," Tomo said. "How are we going to get one of those?"

"Don't worry about that," the chief said. "A judge owes me a favor."

"From the black water incident?"

"Yeah," the chief said. He eyed Tomo cautiously. "Takino, you're not going to go around telling people about that, are you?"

"Oh come on chief," Tomo said, grinning madly. "I wouldn't do that."

"I wonder," the chief said. He moved behind his desk and sat down. "Well, what we have left is the issue of transportation, an inside source you guys can report to, and putting on a show for the guys outside."

"You can't loan us a car?" Tomo said. "I saw a nice Subaru WRX out in the lot."

"Takino, you guys are supposed to be on probation, remember? Driving around in a police car isn't going to work."

"Don't worry about it," Torako said. "I got a car."

"What, your Fiat? No offense Torako, but that thing..." Tomo trailed off as she saw a smile play at the corner of Torako's lips.

"Oh come on!"

"Osaka will let us use it," Torako said.

"You can't be serious! I hate that thing! Why would you want to drive it?"

"Because I'm Kowalski," Torako said.

Confusion fell like a shroud over Tomo's face. "What?"

"Because I'm the last American hero."

Tomo raised her arms and plopped them in her lap in exasperation. "Great, your mind's gone. I knew this day was going to come. It's that awful music you listen to, you don't think you're Japanese anymore."

The chief put his fist over his mouth and cleared his throat, loudly, in three staccato beats. Tomo and Torako quieted.

They discussed the next option, which was who would be their inside contact. Torako suggested Kazumi, and after half-hearted resistance from Tomo, they agreed. The chief called her in and swore her to secrecy concerning the nature of Tomo and Torako's future work. Kazumi agreed to be their contact, and was excused from the office.

"Now, here's the exciting part," the chief said. "I'm going to excuse you guys. You're going to exit, and I'm going to be screaming at you. Make it look good. Be all shame-faced and cowering."

Tomo and Torako stood up from their seats. "Take tomorrow off, Kazumi will deliver the writ when it's ready," the chief said. He then did something neither had ever seen him do before; he bowed, first to Torako, and then to Tomo. They bowed back.

He lifted himself from his bow. "Okay," he said, "let's go."

...

"...the unmitigated gall of you lot!" the chief shouted. "Do you have any idea how much face I lost over this? How many favors I had to cash in for you guys to get away only with two weeks unpaid suspension? The kennel master wanted to personally kill you two!"

Tomo and Torkao were frozen in their subservient posture; bowed straight, bent at the back, with their hands held to their sides.

Torako cleared her throat. "We are deeply sorry, sir-"

"I don't want to hear it!" The chief said. "Get out of my face."

Tomo and Torako broke their bow and turned to leave, the eyes of the entire office glued to them. Kazumi made a little nod when she caught Torako's eye.

"Takino," the chief said. "Not you. I'm not finished with you."

Tomo turned around with a surprised expression, like a contestant chosen from the audience to participate in a game show. She turned to look at Torako, who sported her own quizzical, albeit subdued, look of surprise.

"Tomo!" the chief shouted.

"Coming, sir," Tomo said, as she limped toward the office. She entered and the chief shut the door, electing to sit behind his desk this time.

"Um, chief?" Tomo said, sitting in the leather guest chair, still warm from her heat. "Did I do something wrong?"

"When don't you do something wrong?" the chief said, unlocking his file cabinet. He plopped a large file folder onto the desk, overflowing with papers. "I just need to ask you some questions."

"Okay chief," Tomo said. "I guess we're having that oral exam after all, huh? Do I get an award if I get them right?"

The chief leaned back in his chair, studying his ceiling. "Tomo," he said, "What do you really know about Ayumu Kasuga?"


	12. Chapter 12

"Who?"

"Takino!"

"Oh, you mean Osaka!" Tomo said, with a nervous giggle. "Why didn't you say so!"

"So that's who Osaka is," the chief said. "And you knew who I was talking about. But back to the question, Takino; what do you know about her?"

Tomo shifted in her chair. "What's this about chief? Osaka is... Osaka. An old friend from high school. We went to college together. She was gone for, uh, awhile and then we bumped back into each other. Is this about her helping us scope out the hotel? She's deputized chief, it's no big deal."

"No, it's not a big deal," the chief said, his voice exaggerating his concession of that point. "What is a big deal is how long it took her to get approved as a civilian assistant."

"Yeah, I'm surprised she got approved at all. I bet she had to squeak by, huh? They probably felt sorry for her."

"Tomo, she got approved in an hour."

"I knew that," Tomo said. "That was pretty quick."

"Tomo," the chief said, "it's impossible. Anyone who applies as a civilian assistant to the Tokyo Police has to wait four to six weeks for the personnel board to come to a decision. Massive background checks, tests, checking references all the way back to school, the works. Ms. Kasuga put her application in, and an hour later she was in the system with her new ID tag."

Tomo shrugged. "I guess someone up there must like her, huh?"

The chief rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Don't make this difficult, Tomo. Just listen."

"I am listening," Tomo said. "It's just a bunch of words now."

"I checked into her disappearance," the chief said, hoping this little grenade would pierce Tomo's attention. He reached into his folder and pulled out a photograph of Osaka, handing it to Tomo.

Tomo studied it, nearly turning it upside down, but deciding not to, as the chief didn't seem in a particularly playful mood. It was a bust picture of Osaka, her goofy smile indicating some dreamy thought. "Yeah, that's Osaka all right," Tomo said.

"It's a picture for her United States passport."

"A U.S. passport, huh?" Tomo said, tossing the picture on the chief's desk. "Wonder why she got one of those?"

"Tomo, there's no record of her leaving the country or returning. But I've been able to find flight records traced to her, specifically, in the US." He opened the file folder and shuffled through some papers before finding his target. "A majority of these trips are to and from Washington D.C., with visits to Langely, Fort Meade, and Arlington. Then a couple to Houston and New Orleans."

"Girl got around," Tomo said.

The chief pulled out a blurry picture of Osaka sitting in a crowd. "Here's one from Washington, taken three years ago," he said, tossing the picture to Tomo.

Tomo studied that one. "How did you find all this?"

"I have my ways."

"What's she doing, watching some kind of performance?"

"Yeah, the Washington Capitals."

"Baseball team?"

"Hockey."

Tomo made a look of awed disgust, like a kindergartener discovering frogs for the first time. She laughed. "Hockey? She watches hockey?"

The chief shook his head. "I knew that was the only thing that would get a reaction out of you. It's like nothing else I'm telling you means anything."

"Well, no offense to your outstanding research, but you aren't really telling me anything. She gets an American passport, goes to Washington D.C. a lot, and watches hockey. Big deal."

The chief leaned over his desk and snatched the photograph out of Tomo's hands. "Okay, look at this," he said, rifling through his file folder before pulling out an official looking document. "It's the tax information for her taqueria." He tossed it at Tomo.

Tomo glanced at, the numbers, dates, and small print as powerful as any anesthetic. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"She owns her own building and land," the chief said. "In one of the most costly areas in this ward. She has the deed, and the bank says she has ownership, but... she never paid for it."

"Never paid for it? You mean she's squatting or something?"

"No, I'm saying the deed belonged to the bank, and then, suddenly, it belonged to O- Ms. Kasuga. But no exchange of money or payment took place."

Tomo furrowed her brow and tossed the information back on his desk. "So, it was a gift?"

"I went to the BTMU bank headquarters," the chief said. "I looked into the records. It was a deed to an empty building, owned by the bank. The deed was signed over to Ms. Kasuga. I did not find a single instance of any money changing hands anywhere. I approached the bank president, and plainly told him this was funny, and I was going to look into it. He stared at me like an idiot."

"The old 'plainly told him this was wrong, and I'm going to look into it' ploy, eh? Good going chief."

"Could you, please," the chief said, chopping "please" with his hand, "take this seriously?"

"I am, I am chief," Tomo said, raising a placating hand. "I know what you're doing, trying to rile him up into making a move. I was congratulating you."

The chief narrowed his eyes at Tomo, his mind loading bullets to be fired from his mouth, but decided to leave the safety on. "Yeah, that ploy," the chief said, finally. "When I left, I peeked in and saw him talking on the phone. Calling whoever it is he needs to call."

The chief closed the file folder. "I come back here, and my secretary tells me there's a gentleman waiting for me in my office. I walk in and see this youngish guy in a suit. Big deal, right?"

"Right," Tomo said, knowing the question was rhetorical, but answering it anyway.

"Now here's the part, if you have any sense, that'll knock some sense into your goofy head." He leaned forward, his shadow spreading over the desk. "The man specifically asked me to stop looking into Ms. Kasuga's personal life, and he made it very clear that she was being protected."

Tomo's mad grin collapsed like a mudslide. "NPSC," she said. "Their dirty hands."

"No," the chief said. "The Ministry of Defense."

"No way!"

"That's what I nearly said," the chief said. "He gave me his card and asked me to make an appointment, if I needed further confirmation. He wasn't threatening her life, he was saying they were trying to protect it."

"Protect it? From what?"

The chief shrugged. "He said it was classified. He also told me to expect a phone call, and of course, my phone starts ringing. It's a representative of the U.S. Embassy."

"Oh come on!"

"Not lying. He said pretty much the same thing; Ms. Kasuga was under their joint protection, and they asked me not to pry into her past, for fear of bringing undue attention on her. Anyway, the guest confirmed that it was the U.S. Embassy that called, and he left pretty soon. I called our police liaison at the Ministry of Defense, to make sure this wasn't some random dude coming up off the street and pretending to be a government official. It was all legit. Called up the phone company too, to trace that call. It was indeed from the U.S. embassy."

Tomo sat, stunned, her mouth agape. Osaka, what have you been up to? "I don't get it," she said. "Protection from what?"

"That's what I was going to ask you," the chief said.

Tomo raised up a finger, the investigative part of her mind prowling through the dense jungle of lose facts and vague associations. "She's a translator with the police force," she said. "Spanish translator."

"And English, Korean, and Mandarin."

Tomo blinked. "Seriously? Osaka knows all that?"

The chief smirked. "You didn't know that? I mean really, she's gone as long as she's been, and you didn't look into it? Your own friend?"

"You and Torako," Tomo said. "I looked into it for nearly two years after she left, and then when I became a detective. Dead ends everywhere. And don't ask me if I grilled her about it when she came back. I investigate crimes, and Osaka doesn't do crimes." She cleared her throat, left her chair, and limped around the room. "Okay, she knows those four languages. She's being watched over by the Ministry of Defense and the U.S. Embassy. She lived in the U.S. for many years, maybe living in Washington D.C., whose importance I don't have to explain, and visiting those other cities. What's the importance of those other cities anyway?"

"Where do I start?" the chief said. "CIA, NSA, DARPA, the pentagon, the entire United States intelligence apparatus are in those few cities. No idea what the significance of Houston and New Orleans is, though."

Tomo laughed.

"What?"

"Oh, just intelligence and... well, never mind. Anyway, here's my theory."

"Let's hear it."

"She's a translator," Tomo said. "Korean for North Korea, Mandarin for China, English is obvious, although I don't get why she'd know Spanish. Anyway, she's a heavy-duty translator, right? Maybe for official state visits with those countries, military stuff. So, she knows a lot of classified secrets." Tomo slapped her fist into her palm. "That's why she told me about being a security risk!"

"A security risk?"

"Yeah, when we saw each other again," Tomo said. "That was the reason she gave on why she couldn't be a teacher."

"Security risk," the chief mumbled to himself. "Why is being a teacher a security risk, but running a restaurant isn't?"

"Well, you know," Tomo said. "Bomb threats and whatever."

"A restaurant can get bombed just as easily as a school," the chief said.

"Chief, let me work this out," Tomo said. "So, she's a translator for the US government, and for one reason or another, has to quit."

"Why would she quit? She's pretty young."

"One reason or another," Tomo said, thinking of Osaka's mysterious "lost weekend" in Matamoros, Mexico. "There's some things she told me I don't want to spoil, chief. You know, personal stuff."

Tomo cleared her throat, with a theatrical flourish. "So, she quits, and is under the protection of the US and Japanese governments, because of her knowledge of secret matters during her stint as a translator. Pretty nifty, huh?"

The chief shook his head. "It sounds good, but there's too much unanswered."

"Well, sure, the deed to the building, but maybe she cut a deal with the US and Japanese governments concerning her coming here. Listen, chief," Tomo said, sitting back down in her chair. She leaned forward and clasped her hands, resting her elbows on her legs. "A spook from the Ministry of Defense and a caller from the US Embassy ask you to lay off, so they can better protect her from... something."

"Protect her from what?"

Tomo plowed on. "She's on good terms with the government, if they're looking out for her welfare like this, so why are we still trying to pry? Couldn't we just lay off? Please?"

The chief listened to Tomo's entreaty. Her loudmouth nature and her attitude of treating life like a game, and people as players, had alienated her from most of her co-workers. Her personal set of values clashed with societies' values, and the chief felt it was a miracle that she was even married, although he wasn't going to say it out loud. What the chief believed he saw was, ultimately, a lonely person trying to protect one of the few friends she had.

"Okay," he said. "I'll drop it. It doesn't matter to us what Ms. Kasuga has been up to."

"Thanks chief. You're the greatest!"

"Shut up, Takino. I do have a request, though."

Tomo leaned back in her chair, one arm propped over the back. "Oh yeah, what's that?"

"If I do get this writ ex nihilo, and I'm confident I will, I don't want you guys using Ms. Kasuga as backup. It's unnecessary since you have Ms. Kondo backing you up now, and besides, Ms. Kasuga isn't trained for that sort of thing. If it wasn't for the fact that you and Torako called her Osaka, and no one knows who that is, people would be clamoring for her dismissal, too."

"Um, okay chief," Tomo said, frowning. Despite the seriousness of their early escapades in investigating Ms. Ayase's murder, Tomo had a lot of fun working with Osaka. The request had barely left the chief's mouth, and Tomo already felt melancholy. "We won't use her for backup."

"Good," the chief said. "Now get out of here, go take some rest and let that foot heal. And look down spirited when you go, I don't want anyone getting suspicious."

...

Tomo limped into her apartment, and Rico, getting ready for his late shift, nearly choked on his Pocky.

"What happened to you?" he said, studying Tomo's injuries like an amateur sculptor at the statue of David. "You got your head bashed in!"

"No, I just fell, calm down," Tomo said, limping toward the fridge.

"What happened to your foot?"

"Strained it."

Rico tossed the half-empty box of Pocky onto the counter. "Why isn't it on ice? You're going to swell like a balloon."

"Geez Rico, come on," Tomo said. "I had a rough day."

"Tell me about it," Rico said, opening a cabinet door to grab a yellow bowl. "I'm going to treat your foot," he said, waiting for her to finish digging through the fridge.

"Nah, I'm not sticking my foot in ice," Tomo said, shutting the door after finding a pudding Rico bought for himself. She opened a drawer and grabbed a spoon. "I can deal."

Rico watched her limp toward the table next to the wall. He put the bowl down on the counter.

"Tomo, look," he said.

Tomo turned around, and Rico grabbed her by her waist, lifting her into the air. She squealed as he carried her to the couch in the living room, gently setting her down.

"Sit right there, don't move, or I'll tie you down," Rico said, as he dashed back to the kitchen. Tomo stared blankly after him, turning beet red. She snapped out of it and harrumphed, angrily spooning globs of chocolate pudding into her mouth.

Rico rushed back to the living room with his bowl of ice in one hand, and a chair in the other. "You need to keep your foot elevated," he said, as his large hands lifted Tomo's leg, placing her foot in the bowl of ice.

He glanced at his wife. "You burning up?"

"W-what? No, I'm fine!"

"You're red," he said, "and your pupils are dilated. You got a fever?" He put his hand on her forehead.

"You quack," Tomo said. "Where's your medical license? I'm going to arrest you for malpractice." She put her hand on his, and pulled it away. She clasped her hand around his, and Rico smiled in understanding.

...

Three days later, at 7:25 in the morning, Judge Takazaki of the Tokyo high court signed into effect the writ ex nihilo. The document was locked in the vault of the Tokyo district court, with three copies being given to Chief Akiyama. An hour later, in front of a hastily assembled and surprised press, the judge announced his early retirement. He did not give a reason.

Chief Akiyama, reading about the announcement in his office, laid down the evening paper, pulled out his gun, and checked, for the third time that day, if it was fully loaded.

...

**A/N:** There's more, but I decided to use it to start a new chapter. Besides, not every chapter I post needs to be 7,000 words long.


	13. Chapter 13

"So," Torako said, the sun reflecting from her black Ray-Bans, "you actually think Osaka's a spy."

"Yeah," Tomo said, "a double agent! No, a quadruple agent!"

Torako saw free road ahead and shifted into a higher gear, the forty-year-old Challenger R/T roaring in response. It could never be used as an undercover car, considering the baffled stares bouncing off its black metal hide. It was loud, unique, and evil looking; and Torako liked it that way. She didn't have to fear any undue attention, as her copy of the writ ex nihilo was folded safely in her jacket pocket.

"A quadruple agent," Torako said.

"Yeah, she was selling secrets left and right for all sorts of countries," Tomo said, gesturing wildly. "Japan, China, United States, you name it!"

"What, she decided to go into retirement? In one of the countries she stole secrets from?"

"Well, she's on friendly terms with the US and Japan, right, so they cut her a deal. They're protecting her from Chinese agents!"

Torako downshifted as she exited the highway, heading toward a residential district. "Did you tell the chief any of this?"

"Nah, I just said she was a translator, to get him off our backs. So anyway, Osaka is living incognito, but I bet she still sells secrets on the side. What do you think? Is it a fool-proof theory or what?" Tomo launched into a loud and obnoxious laugh, pleased at her brilliant investigative prowess.

"One problem with your theory," Torako said.

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"It's Osaka we're talking about."

"So?" Tomo said. "That's the whole point, right?"

"Tomo," Torako said, making time to inflict a skeptical glance upon Tomo before returning her attention to the road. "It's Osaka."

Tomo folded her arms and affected a look of such smug superiority that someone with less self-control than Torako would have instantly punched her. "Is that your brilliant rebuttal, o wise partner of mine?"

"It's the only rebuttal," Torako said. "How in the world can you, knowing Osaka like you do, imagine her having any success as a spy?"

"Well," Tomo said, her face displaying a desperate search for explanations. "Um... she would be... uh..."

"Yes?"

"You know what? I hate this car." Tomo mimed turning a steering wheel, like a child in a car seat pretending to drive. "The steering wheel is on the wrong side, and who would want one of these things anyway," Tomo said, for the fourth time that morning.

"Hmm," Torako replied, for the fourth time that morning. "I thought you liked fast cars."

"Yeah, but not this one."

"Surely you have another reason besides the steering wheel being on the wrong side."

"Where do I start?" Tomo said. She held up a hand and ticked off the reasons. "It's old, it's ugly, there's no radio, it smells weird, and it's not Japanese."

"I wondered when that reason would show up," Torako said. "What if this was a Ferrari Enzo?"

"Then I'd make you pull over and let me drive," Tomo said.

"Did you ask Osaka about what the chief said?"

"Wow, you're still talking about that?"

"I never finished," Torako said. "Have you even spoken to Osaka?"

"Well of course I have," Tomo said. "Why wouldn't I? I asked her about some of the stuff, you know, if she was a translator for the U.S. government. She said she was, and would translate official documents from China and other places."

Torako grimaced and shook her head. "Where'd you come up with this stuff about her being a spy, if she's already admitted to being a translator?"

"Because she kept saying 'I can't tell you because it's a security risk' when I asked her questions about what she translated! She has to be a spy."

Torako decided to drop the subject.

...

"Um, where are we going?" Tomo said, looking around the residential neighborhood, full of cramped two-story houses crowding each other.

"Check in on Monsieur Chien, like I already told you," Torako said, slowing down to let playing children vacate the street. She had to honk the horn to get them to move. "Why aren't they in school?"

"This doesn't look like the way to the Chiyoda ward kennel to me."

"It's not," Torako said.

"Because what I'm thinking now is that you're going to be a very bad partner by putting me in a situation I told you I don't want to be in, so I'm just going to keep talking and hope that I don't see-" Tomo saw it, the sign advertising Sakaki's clinic.

"Oh come on Torako!"

"He's still recuperating," Torako said. "It'll be another two days before he can come back to the kennel, and then a full month before he returns to work."

"So we aren't taking him today? Then why'd we come over? I know it's not to see him, because you wouldn't be that compassionate about your animal brothers."

"Well, Doctor Sakaki said-"

"Your furry friend on the force."

Torako cleared her throat. "Doctor Sakaki-"

"Your canine compatriot."

"I'm going to hit you," Torako said, as she pulled into the parking lot next to the red brick veterinarian clinic. Torako drove through the parking lot and parked the car on the street, since there weren't any parking spaces big enough for the Challenger.

"Did I mention I hate this car?" Tomo said, when she got out.

"The vet said Monsieur Chien bit the fleeing suspect," Torako said, declining to mention Sakaki by name.

Tomo bounced her fist in her hand. "Oh yeah! He screamed right before Monsieur Chien yelped. I guess he did get bitten."

"So you already knew that," Torako said, shaking her head.

"Hey, I couldn't think straight," Tomo said, in a hissing whisper. "I thought Chien was going to die. I mean, I can't be all cool and collective and swab his fangs for a blood sample."

"Chien biting the vet's hand contaminated the suspect's blood," Torako said. "So we lost that angle." She bit the inside of her cheeks to avoid heaving exasperated sighs at Tomo's unthinking behavior.

"Yeah, sorry," Tomo said, running her hand through her hair. "Totally my fault. And you don't have to avoid mentioning Sakaki's name, I'm not a child."

...

Tomo's stomach danced like a gymnast on the mat when she entered Sakaki's veterinarian clinic. It lacked the typical smell of a clinic, that combination of dust, urine, disinfectant, and animal fear. It smelled fresh, like washed cotton. The waiting room had one visitor, a middle-aged woman with an ochre cat in a carrying cage, busy voicing his disagreement of being at the vet by howling and striking the bars of his prison.

Torako walked up the waiting window and flashed her badge at the clerk on the other side, telling her that she was here to see Dr. Sakaki. Tomo surveyed the waiting room, looking anywhere but at the entrance leading to the examination rooms in the back, knowing Sakaki was going to arrive.

Tomo looked at the entrance as Dr. Sakaki walked through, tall and stately like an ancient queen ruling her land of snow and ice. If Torako's natural resting expression was a resigned frown, Sakaki's was a glare, weighty and perpetual like a glacier moving through the North Sea. This is how she looked during the first year of high school, Tomo thought. Over the next two years at high school, Sakaki's face softened to reveal that sweet fluffy core inside, but now...

"Detective," Sakaki said making a slight nod to Torako. Torako nodded back. "Follow me." Sakaki swung around and strode down the hall, past the examination rooms to the kennel in the back. Greetings obviously over, Torako glanced at Tomo, shrugged, and followed Sakaki into the back of the clinic. Tomo, knowing she had been snubbed by Sakaki's singular greeting, boiled bubbling fantasies of revenge.

"The dog is doing better," Sakaki said, when they entered the kennel room. "We need to observe him one more day before he can leave."

Monsieur Chien, his neck bandaged, was lying down in his pen when the three entered. The only other animals in the kennel were a rabbit with his rear leg in a splint and a snake curled against his windowed pen.

"Hi Monsieur Chien!" Tomo said, as she squatted in front of his cage. Chien staggered onto his feet, his tail swishing back and forth. Tomo put her hand on the bars, and Chien stuck his nose to it and sniffed.

"He was showing symptoms of an irritated stomach when we first brought him here," Sakaki said, as she pulled open a drawer. She pulled out a plastic zip lock bag and tossed it, her throw neatly landing in Torako's open hand. "We induced vomiting and this came out. It's clean."

Torako opened the bag and pulled out a ring.

Torako turned it over in her hand. The band was platinum, set with topaz cut in the shape of the imperial seal of Japan: a chrysanthemum. Inside the band, underneath where the stone was set, were three English language letters, each followed by a period.

"R.O.T." Tomo read it aloud, after teleporting behind Torako and looking over her shoulder. "What does that mean?"

"Roger O. Thornhill."

"What does the O stand for?"

"Nothing."

"Ah, you're lying, Torako."

"Will that be all detectives? I need to get back to my work," Sakaki said, in her clipped, soft tone.

Torako arched an eyebrow. "Certainly doctor, thanks for your time. We'll show ourselves out."

...

"Dr. Sakaki needs to find a new line of work," Torako said, as the two opened the doors to the Challenger. "She's burned out."

"She used to not be like that," Tomo said, sitting down and strapping on her seatbelt. "I mean, she was always intimidating looking, but she was really cool and soft-hearted once you got to know her."

"I can't say I like her too much," Torako said, as she started the car. The Challenger roared, eager to continue its blasphemy of the sacred Japanese roads. "Her ignoring you kind of pissed me off."

"What, are you my protector now?" Tomo said, infesting Torako's field of vision with a mischievous grin. "I haven't even knighted you yet."

Torako responded by accidentally dropping the clutch and stalling the engine.

"Well, enough of that," Tomo said. "Let's eat lunch, so we can discuss how we're going to interview Watanabe and Saito."

"Sounds good," Torako said. "What are we going to eat?"

"Let's eat at Osaka's!"

Torako shook her head. "I'm broke."

"So am I. Let's eat at Osaka's!"

"Tomo, I'm not going to be a freeloader. You've already bummed off enough free meals from her as it is."

"So? She doesn't mind. And besides, you're borrowing her car." Tomo stuck her chin in the air and folded her arms as if she had just won an important debate.

"I'm paying for gas."

"Well duh," Tomo said. "That goes without saying. You always pay for gas when you borrow someone's car, that's the rule. But the fact that you're borrowing her car proves that you're a freeloader, ipso facto, let's eat at Osaka's!"

"What's ipso facto got to do with it," Torako muttered, as she headed toward Osaka's taqueria.

...

The information they had on the former investigators, Watanabe and Saito, was provided to them the day before by the always helpful old man Jichiro, who quickly became the source when it came to the Taito ward, and police activity in general.

"Saito's just a big dumb brute," he told them, as they visited him at his koban in the Kanda district. Chief Akiyama, with prodding from Tomo, had picked him up from Ueno Park and offered him a job as a neighborhood police officer at an old abandoned koban in the Kanda district. It was, in a sense, a charity position, since Jichiro would have very little work besides greeting the locals. But he accepted it, and impressed the people on his beat with his work ethic and kindly manner.

"He's all muscle. He solves his crimes through punches, kicks, baton beatings and whatever form of violence he has at his disposal. He's dumb, though, so he'll be easy to trick, but it's not like he's going to know anything to begin with."

The three were inside the cramped koban, upstairs in Jichiro's private room, where he lived. The first thing he did when he got paid was buy a heated table, and the three sat around it and drank tea.

"So we won't get anything from him," Tomo said, in between sips. "Damn fine tea, by the way."

"Thank you," Jichiro said. "No my dear, Saito's not the one. You'll have to speak to Watanabe, and he's going to be a handful."

"How so?"

"Oh, he's a manipulator, a clever one, that's for sure." He learned forward, Tomo and Torako doing the same, straining to listen to his secretive voice.

"Ten people who were under his custody committed suicide. He's made the biggest gangsters, and I mean mugs who'll sooner cut their mothers than lose a nickel in profit, break down crying. His interrogations usually end in nervous breakdowns for whoever it is he's interviewing."

"Wow," Tomo said. "So he's like... Hannibal Lector, without the cannibalism."

"Well, I don't know what that is," Jichiro said, "but he's got a weakness."

He poured some more tea and drank it, dragging out what he was going to say for dramatic effect.

"He's really vain," Jichiro said, cradling his teacup in both hands. "He's always putting on lotions and skin creams, especially on his face. He's real sensitive about that. I don't know if I'd go for that right off the bat, but it's something to keep in mind."

"Sounds like we got to be careful around him," Torako said.

"I don't think you girls will have to worry much," Jichiro said. "He ain't likely to know much about you when you first interrogate him, so he'll probably clam up and study you, trying to figure out what makes you tick. Poking and prodding. If I was you, I'd try to break that guy as soon as possible. A return trip will mean he owns the conversation."

...

Torako and Tomo arrived at Osaka's taqueria, and discussed their course of action in tackling the Ayase murder case while eating chicken molè amarillo. Osaka was only able to give them a kind greeting before disappearing into the kitchen, too busy to stay and chat for long.

"All we'll need to do is interviews," Torako said. "A long list of idiots we couldn't talk to before. At the top of that list is going to be Watanabe and Saito."

"Let's do Watanabe first, get that one over with," Tomo said, tossing a chunk of food into her mouth. "What about the ghost?"

"What ghost?" Torako said, as she poured salsa on a side dish.

"You know, Osaka's ghost. The one she saw in the hotel room."

Torako put down her bowl of salsa to avoid throwing it at Tomo's head. She met Tomo with a blank stare. "Absolutely not," she said.

"Why not? We can have a séance and everything."

"Can't subpoena a ghost," Torako said, hoping her answer would silence Tomo's ridiculous request. "That sort of evidence isn't admissible in court."

"Well, it should be," Tomo grumbled. She chewed angrily on a chunk of chicken. "Who's next on the list?"

"Mr. Mainichi of Mainichi Construction, although I'm hoping we won't have to talk to him. We need to find out who was Asagi's successor. Find out who took over operations."

"You're placing an awful lot of bets on those two," Tomo said, after draining her second beer. "They know all the tricks of the trade, they won't let anything slip." She held up her empty beer bottle and stared angrily at the waiter, who saved his imperiled health by quickly obtaining for her another beer.

"Yeah," Torako said. "I may have to improvise."

Tomo swallowed her beer wrong, and gagged. The background talk dipped as the tables watched Tomo's performance.

"I hate it when you improvise," Tomo said, when she stopped sputtering.

...

The Tokyo Disciplinary Holding Center, a minimum-security prison, was called "The Wilted Crocus", or "The Crocus", due to a violent and bloody incident in its past that no one remembers. A simple concrete building with no signs advertising its unsavory duty, which was holding moneyed public figures, police, and general higher-ups caught in the act of wrongdoing, but lucky, smart, or rich enough to bargain their way out of the maximum-security prisons. Lucky, smart, and rich can be read as bribery, blackmail, and threats of violence.

Former investigators Saito and Watanabe were caught in the act of wrongdoing, officially taking bribes from gangsters, unofficially trying to muscle in on Asagi Ayase's territory through threatening Ms. Ando. They were put in The Crocus, not because of any special ability concerning negotiation, but for the simple reason that what they knew was dangerous to those who don't want to be in prison. It was suggested that, perhaps, you know, maybe we don't want to use the word kill, but if an accident happened, well, who would miss them? No, came the counter-suggestion, they're still useful to us despite their dangerous knowledge, so just keep them at The Crocus for the time being.

The behind-the-scenes deals to get them in a minimum-security prison were known but to a handful of people. Police officers like Tomo and Torako, despite knowing how this sort of system worked, could only guess the true reason for Saito and Watanabe getting off so easily.

"This place looks boring," Tomo said, as the two were cleared by security for entering the prison. "All this dull grey, it's so uninviting."

"It's a prison," Torako said. "It's supposed to... wait, are we really having this conversation?"

"Well, yeah, I know it's supposed to be uninviting," Tomo said, "but couldn't they spruce up the outside a little? I mean, it's called The Crocus, right, so how about some flowers and potted plants outside so it won't be such an eyesore?"

They showed their badges to two severe faced security guards, who had them wait while they verified the duo's identity. After the computer said, yes, these guys are who they say they are, the floor guard, stepping like an overeager teenager in the Hitler youth, led them to the interrogation chambers.

The interrogation chambers were a series of simple concrete rooms design liked any other interrogation chamber in any other police station or seen on television cop drams. Unadorned concrete walls, a table in the middle with chairs facing it, and a two way mirror where other police officers could watch the proceedings to make sure nothing got out of hand, where "getting out of hand" involved the interrogator being threatened or attacked by the interrogatee; but not the other way around.

Torako had already set up the interrogation before the two arrived at the holding facility. Watanabe and Saito were to be separated, placed in two adjacent rooms. Torako and Tomo knew they were in for a tough battle with the two hard-bitten former police investigators, so they figured on playing it straight, and not doing any games. Torako's airy suggestion of "improvisation" bothered Tomo, as she had seen examples of Torako's improvisational skills when it came to interrogations, and it was significantly less than kosher, like purée pork alamode.

The two entered Watanabe's chamber, and shut the door behind them. Two prison officers watched the proceedings from behind the two-way glass, ready to enter if Watanabe gave them any trouble.

Watanabe himself, in his green jumpsuit, sat on the folding metal chair, one hand resting on the table. His black hair was cut close to his head, and his eyes shown with arrogant indifference. With a ghostly sneer he rose from his chair and stood at attention. On his hand, instantly noticed by Tomo and Torako, was a ring similar to the one found in Monsieur Chien's stomach.

"Detective Tomo Takino," he said, bowing to Tomo. Startled, Tomo bowed back.

"Detective Torako von Wallenstein," he said, pronouncing the name Torako inherited from her grandfather in perfect Czech. Tomo showed no reaction to the mention of Torako's last name. She had already spent all mirth that subject contained when the two first met, and now it was as boring and plain as tap water.

Watanabe now addressed the duo. "I, former investigator Ryo Watanabe, am pleased to make your acquaintance." He sat in his chair and pulled it forward, displaying perfectly erect military posture, eyes straight ahead, staring at the wall.

Torako placed her folder on the table and sat in one of the brown metal folding chairs facing Watanabe, Tomo plopping down beside her.

"I understand that you two were mine and Saito's temporary replacements in the Ueno district. I was told that you two have important questions to ask. I hope what little I know will be of some benefit in your case." His voice was silky, like a web spun by a venomous spider. Tomo and Torako knew, instinctively, that he was trying to set the terms of the interrogation, and thus control it.

"Do you know what we're working on?" Tomo said.

"I do believe, officially, it concerns the murder of one Asagi Ayase."

"Do you know who killed her?" Torako said, ignoring the disbelief hidden in his using the word officially.

Watanabe smiled, displaying a chipped front tooth. "You get straight to the point. No niceties, no sparing. Very direct." His smile closed upon itself as he looked at the table and sighed.

Tomo and Torako waited for him to respond to the question, but a full ten seconds later, and the two realized he had.

"Who killed her?" Torako said.

"Ms. von Wallenstein-"

"Torako will do."

"Ah. Torako, then." He placed a hand on the table, Tomo and Torako trying not to stare at the ring. He moved it across the surface of the table, like a man absentmindedly stroking the thigh of a prostitute. "I imagine the two of you rehearsed and discussed how you would deal with a former investigator. I suppose this means you decided on the direct route." He shook his head slowly and clicked his tongue at the two. "Disappointing. You expect me to help you, you offer me something in return."

"Like what?" Tomo said, exasperated. "Could we offer you the opportunity to stop wasting our time? Because that's what you're doing."

Watanabe smiled blankly at Tomo and her outburst. "How about some tea," he said. "Offer me a drink. Ask me, 'Mr. Watanabe, would you like some tea?' I would surely accept it."

Tomo glanced at Torako, who shifted uncomfortably.

"Now now, come now," he said. "There's no need to react this way. I'm not playing a trick on you. This isn't some game of psychological one-upmanship. I'm merely asking you to show some civil behavior." He smiled pleasantly and placed both hands on the table, palms down. "Now. Ask me. 'Mr. Watanabe, would you like some tea?'"

Tomo cleared her throat, and in a delicate childlike voice that took even Torako by surprise, asked in the most servile manner possible, "Mr. Watanabe, would you like some tea?"

Mr. Watanabe smiled sinister, like a moving shadow seen only in peripheral vision. "Yes, I would like some tea, thank you Detective Takino."

"Ha!" Tomo shouted, standing up and slapping both hands on the table. "Too bad! You get nothing!" She put one hand on her chest and posed like an arrogant princess while Torako lit a cigarette. "Oh, look at me, an old man running roughshod over these poor defenseless girls. Admire my great masculine ability." Tomo leaned forward, her hands on her hips. "What is this, some lame TV thriller? Are we going to chase you to the edge of a cliff and have a ten-minute long confession about how your dad made you wear dresses while your mom smeared your face with mayonnaise? Will there be a symphony orchestra playing a crescendo in the background?"

"Settle down," Torako said, tapping ash on the table. If Watanabe had any reaction to Tomo's ridiculous accusations, he didn't show it. He had the same military posture and the same shadowy smile. Tomo plopped down in her chair again and hid her own confusion at Watanabe's reaction, or lack thereof.

The interrogation continued, with Torako showing Watanabe pictures of the girl at the payphone in Tokyo Station on the night Asagi died, whom Watanabe said he didn't know. Questions about Hayakawa, the cheap brat of a detective that interviewed Tomo and Torako in Ueno Park, were met with contempt.

"A lackey, a professional lackey," Watanabe said. "No talent as an investigator."

"How did he get the job?" Tomo said.

"You'll have to ask whoever hired him, I imagine."

He also claimed ignorance about the "she" mentioned by Hayakawa. After further questioning, Torako decided to show him the ring given to them by Sakaki that morning. She held it out in front of him and asked, "Do you recognize this?"

"I do not," Watanabe said. Yet, the edges of his eyes tensed, pulling wrinkles taut. His mouth tightened.

Torako leaned on the table and held up the ring in front of him. "You lie," she said, and Tomo impulsively shouted, "Yeah!"

Watanabe stared at the floor and chuckled. "I don't recognize that one," he said.

"That one," Tomo said. "You mean there's more? I mean, besides yours, of course."

Watanabe looked up, smirking. "Do I mean there's more?"

"You do," Torako said. She put the ring back in its evidence bag. "Was this ring Asagi's?"

Tomo raised her eyebrows in query as she looked at Torako. Torako merely smoked.

"No," he said.

"Maybe we've started off misunderstanding each other," Torako said, leaning back in her chair, taking a long drag from her cigarette before snuffing it out on the table. "I'm not interested in conspiracies or police collusion with gangsters. I don't care that Asagi's case was sealed by the National Public Safety Commission. It means nothing to me. That's just a power game, as far as I can tell, and I have no interest in power. The only thing I want to know, is who killed Asagi Ayase. If you don't know, then tell me who I should talk to."

Watanabe shrugged. "How could I possibly tell you who to talk to, when I know nothing about it?"

"You know who belonged to Ms. Ayase's organization," Tomo said. "You and Saito knew enough to harass Ms. Ando and her son about getting a cut of the profits. Who is her second-in-command? Her right hand man?"

Watanabe sighed. "You bore me terribly," he said. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, pinky extended. "So wearisome."

"You're about to get a lot more bored," Torako said, collecting her folder. "We're going to keep you here until you tell us what we want to know. We're going to visit Saito now. Anything you want us to tell him?"

"Why would I use you as a courier? I see him every day." Watanabe folded his arms and stared at the floor. "I do have a message I need you to give to some friends on the outside, though."

Tomo's hair stood on end as she watched Torako, who showed no reaction. Torako stood and waited for Watanabe to finish.

"Some dear friends, you could say," Watanabe said. "I believe you know them."

"Spit it out, or we're leaving," Tomo said, as she and Torako headed toward the exit. Torako's hand hovered over the security button, when Watanabe said, "They drive a black Toyota Crown."

Tomo jerked around and stared at Watanabe, feeling a mix of anger and shock. Torako removed her hand, feeling the same emotions but hiding them behind her custom-made frown.

"Three gentlemen," he said. "Suits and ties. I think they made the acquaintance of your husband, Ms. Takino," Watanabe lifted his head and turned his gaze to the two women. "They met your mother as well, Torako. I do hear they were charmed by her, and plan on visiting with her again."

"You runt!" Tomo said, but Torako restrained her with a firm grip on the shoulder. "Wait here," she said, like a warning growl. Torako pressed the button and the security door opened. Torako walked through it, and it closed behind her.

Tomo glowered at the nonchalant Watanabe. "A runt," he said. "How ill-mannered. You'll need to be taught some manners, I believe."

"Ha, just you try it!"

"Interesting that your partner left you alone here with me," he said. Before he could speak again, the door buzzed and Torako reentered, sans folder.

"Torako, where-"

Torako removed her jacket and tossed it on the floor. She unbuckled her holster and held it toward Tomo, who reached for the belt.

"No," Torako growled. "Take the gun."

"Oh great," Tomo said, as she took the gun. "You decided to improvise."

"He tries anything, shoot him." She tossed the holster and strap on top of her jacket.

Watanabe flung his head back and laughed. "Going to soften me up a bit? Are you really reduced to this, detective? A slip of a woman like you?"

Torako pulled out her pocketknife, a Gerber Paraframe. She bartered for possession of the knife eight years ago in Yokohama, from an American soldier on leave, who in exchange for the knife and a pack of Parliament cigarettes, received some risqué pictures of Asagi taken by Torako earlier that day.

Torako placed her thumbnail underneath the nub and flicked open the blade. Watanabe stood up from his seat, eying the knife.

"What is this?"

With speed bursting from her legs, Torako leapt over the table and smashed her shoes into Watanabe's face. He fell to the ground, covering his face, while Torako straddled him. She grabbed one hand and pinned it above his head. Before he was able to gain control of himself and throw the smaller woman off him, Torako jabbed the tip of the blade underneath Watanabe's upper lip, and jerked the knife.

Watanabe screamed. Torako's knife finished its arch, held erect like she was posing for Kafka's version of the statue of liberty, flinging a trail of blood against the cold concrete wall. Watanabe screamed and covered his face with both hands, blood oozing through his fingers.

"Shut up," Torako said. She closed her knife and smashed the end of the handle into the side of Watanabe's head. He whimpered, and Torako bent low over him.

"This is the deal," she growled. "You are going to tell me what I want to know. You don't, I take a piece from you. Today, I split your lip. Tomorrow, maybe an earlobe or a fingernail. Eventually, I'm going to start taking organs. We'll do this, every day, until you tell me what I want to know, or there's nothing left for me to take."

Torako left the whimpering and moaning Watanabe on the floor as she pocketed her knife and made her way to the stunned Tomo. She collected her belongings and gently lifted the gun from Tomo's hands, placing it back in her holster.

She leaned over Tomo and hit the buzzer. Tomo let out a breath and shook her head. The door opened, and two armed police officers entered.

"He fell and split his lip on the table," Torako said, nodding her head at the whimpering, blubber mass between the wall and the table. "He may need some stitches."

"Yeah, and I think he has colon cancer," Tomo said. "Give him an endoscopy with one of those flashlights."

...

The two sat in the guard's rec room adjacent to the interrogation room. The room itself was just a tiny rest stop for people conducting interviews to fill up on some tea and snacks, which both Tomo and Torako were doing. The two remained silent ever since they left Watanabe's interrogation room.

"Well," Torako said. "Are you going to say something?"

"I don't know," Tomo said. "I, uh, don't know what to say."

Torako put down her teacup it in its saucer. She was sitting on the table while Tomo faced her from across the room, leaning against the refrigerator. She took a sip of the tea.

"The thing is, I wanted to hurt him too," Tomo said. "So, it's like I'm trying to work up something to say about it, but nothing's coming." She sipped her tea again. "It makes me feel bad, though. You feel any better after doing it?"

"No," Torako said.

"How far are you willing to go on this case?"

"Not murder, if that's what you're asking," Torako said.

"It is," Tomo said. "Torako, the scourge of the underworld. Heh heh. I'm going to design you a costume. It's going to have red leather thigh-high boots and a Zorro mask."

"Does that make you my sidekick?"

"What? Of course not," Tomo said, dropping her cup on the counter. "I'm the voice of your conscience." She made a distant voice, like a ranger shouting for a lost hiker on a mountain. "Torako! Don't walk that path, it leads to destruction! Torako!"

"If you're my conscience, then I feel sorry for the underworld."

"Oh? And what's that supposed to mean?"

Torako cleared her throat. "It means it's time to interview Saito. Let's go."

"Hold on," Tomo said, as Torako stood up. "What was all that about the ring?"

"Just a hunch," Torako said. "That he knew who it belonged too. But when I saw him wearing one-"

"-a secret organization, that's exactly what I thought!" Tomo said, pumping her fist in the air.

"Don't get carried away," Torako said. "We're just investigating Asagi's murder, and that's that. Keep it simple."

...

"Zhang Ping!" Saito said, as soon as Tomo and Torako entered the room.

"What?" Tomo said.

"Zhang Ping! He's Asagi's right hand man, took over the biggest casino in Taito when she got whacked. He's a Chinese immigrant. I'll give you the address, just don't hurt me!"

Tomo and Torako smirked in unison, and sat down in the metal folding chairs across from Saito. Saito held up his hands in supplication. "You guys aren't going to hurt me, are ya?"

"What makes you think we're going to do that?" Tomo said.

"Are you kidding? I heard what you did to Watanabe," Saito said. "I could hear him screaming through the wall. Made my blood turn cold. I'll tell you everything I know, just don't hurt me!"

Torako pulled out her notebook, and started taking notes.

...

**A/N**: Yes, Torako is a descendent of General Wallenstein of the Thirty Year's War. There's no meaning behind it except that it made me laugh when I came up with it.

For the record, she's one-quarter Czech and three-quarters Japanese. Of course, this will have to be changed if Mr. Azuma gives her a last name in _Yotsuba!_


	14. Chapter 14

Torako leaned against the Challenger and smoked while Tomo, fighting a desperate struggle against her arch-nemesis, that slayer of time - boredom - trounced around the parking lot of the history-haunted Budokan stadium.

Earlier, Tomo had swung her bokken around in made-up katas. She had started them simple enough, slicing the air while shouting at imaginary enemies. Eventually, boredom battered through Tomo's ramparts, so she asked Torako to pull out her gun and shoot at her, so she could deflect the bullets. Torako flicked the butt of her used-up cigarette instead, smacking Tomo in the chest. Tomo's inability to swat away the butt ended her quest to deflect bullets.

The temperature had cooled into the early evening, and both Tomo and Torako were bundled up in their respective cold-fighting clothing; Torako in her leather fighter jacket, and Tomo in her green trenchcoat over a tan sweater, the collar of a blue dress shirt peeking out.

Boredom now invaded her throne room, so Tomo, further abandoning reason, decided to pick a fight with Torako.

"Hey Torako," she said, marching up to her supine partner, "smoking makes you look stupid."

Torako removed her cigarette, and fixed her dour expression on the miniature whirling dervish. "It's cute how you try to pick a fight with me when you're bored."

"Oh shut up," Tomo said, grumping away. "What's taking Kazumi so long anyway? We've been waiting for two hours."

"No choice," Torako said. "She's rushing this as fast as she can, but there's a limit to what she can do."

"We should've gone to the arcade!"

"We're broke, remember?"

"Blah blah," Tomo said. "Hey, I got an idea! Tell me what you did the last three days we had off waiting for that rid-x neelo. And it better be good."

"I visited with some crazy people."

"Ha ha," Tomo said, monotone. "After that."

"Well, I pulled out my Rickenbacker and Fender amp for the first time in months," Torako said. "Started playing again. Got some of my calluses back. Taught myself The Jam's _Running on the Spot_. I was able to sing and play the whole song through without screwing up."

"A long string of words just came out of your mouth, and I have no idea what they mean," Tomo said. "So I'm just going to tell you what I did."

Torako's psychic klaxon began blaring, warning her that Tomo was going to talk about her sex life. Torako, not wanting to hear that dreaded subject, took preventative measures.

"First tell me how your foot is doing," Torako said, jabbing toward Tomo's foot with her cigarette. "You're still limping there."

"Huh? Oh, it's fine," Tomo said, lifting her foot toward Torako, as if she could tell it was better by looking at her red Converse Hi-top shoe. "Rico got to live out his dream of being a nursemaid. He wore a nurse's uniform and everything. He looks good in a dress."

"Yeah right," Torako said with a snort. "You're full of it."

"No, I'm serious! It was kinky."

"Hmm," Torako said, pulling out her cellphone and flipping it open. "I think I'll text him and ask."

"Wait, don't!" Tomo said, lurching toward Torako and grabbing for her phone. Torako jerked her phone away from Tomo's reach. "I was joking! He didn't really wear a nurse's uniform."

"I know he didn't," Torako said, pocketing her cellphone.

"Stupid cellphones," Tomo said. "I'm going to change his number so you two can't text each other anymore."

"It's just one big conspiracy to give you grief."

"I know it is!" Tomo readied herself to launch into a tirade, but was distracted by an approaching car. "Look, there's Kazumi! Finally."

Kazumi, in her personal vehicle (an older model Jaguar XK) pulled alongside the dark iron body of the Challenger. She exited her Jag, her silver hair reflecting blue from the lowering sun, and made a derisive stare at the other car.

"Is this what you two are driving?"

"Yep," Tomo said. "It's Osaka's. What took you so long anyway? Flirting with the chief, I bet."

Kazumi reddened like an over-ripe tomato, ready to burst. She made a concerted effort to divert her attention from Tomo to Torako.

"Here you are," Kazumi said, handing Torako an evidence bag with the ring in it. "I had the lab make this priority. They worked on it as fast as they could. I'm sorry if it took too long."

"Yeah!" Tomo said. "You better apologize!"

"It's platinum and topaz, like you said," Kazumi said, her voice cracking. "The platinum is 99% pure, which is unusually pure for jewelry. The R.O.T. is probably a jeweler's insignia. It's definitely custom made. We don't know who made it, though."

"There's more than one ring," Torako said, holding the bag up and studying the ring. "Kazumi, get your team to do a search on all custom jewelers in Chiyoda and Taito. I want you to find which one bought the most platinum and topaz in the past two years. Follow this R.O.T. angle. Extend your search to the whole city if you get a negative with Taito and Chiyoda. If you still can't find anything, let me know."

"Yes ma'am," Kazumi said. "I won't let you down, Torako."

"How about me?" Tomo said, sticking herself in Kazumi's vision, forcing her to lean backwards. Tomo pointed finger at her own face. "You won't let me down either, right?"

"Of course not! When I say I'm going to do something, I do it."

"Heh," Tomo said, folding her arms. "Too late."

"W-what? What are you talking about?"

"I had to wait for two hours," Tomo said, holding up two fingers in Kazumi's face. "Two hours! What's up with that?"

"I can't help that!" Kazumi said, fists clenched at her sides. "We worked as fast as we could!"

Torako grabbed Tomo's shoulder. "Thanks for your help Kazumi. I'll be in touch."

...

"Man, Kazumi needs to do something about that blood pressure," Tomo said, as she sat in the passenger side and watched Kazumi peel away in her Jag. "She's going to have a heart-attack one day."

"That'll make you blood guilty," Torako said, as she started the car. "Let's hit that gambling den Saito told us about."

"I'm hungry," Tomo said. "I want to eat."

Torako sighed. "Can it wait?"

"No, I'm hungry now. Come on Torako, that gambling den is still going to be there. I can't arrest anybody on an empty stomach."

"We're not going to arrest anyone," Torako said. "We're going into enemy territory, and we won't get anywhere by acting like our normal belligerent selves." The car idled while Torako fought a mental battle with herself, and lost. "So, where do we eat? I can make some fried rice at home."

"Home cooking? Pfft, let's eat out!"

Torako shook her head. "Tomo, we're broke. You know we're broke."

"Ha! Not anymore, sister!" Tomo reached into the outer pocket of her trenchcoat and pulled out a wad of bills.

Torako frowned at the rainbow of yen. "Where did you get those?"

"It's a secret," Tomo said, pocketing the money. "Come on, it'll be my treat."

Intuition struck Torako, and she flipped open the ashtray. Except for a scrap of paper, it was empty.

"Tomo, you stole that from Osaka," Torako said, shaking her head at her partner.

"It's not stealing," Tomo said. "It's Osaka! We're borrowing it. She wouldn't mind."

"I think she would," Torako said.

"Well, she should have left a note asking us not to take it, then," Tomo said, with a pompous thrust of her chin.

Torako pulled the scrap of paper out of the ashtray and unfolded it. It was a note from Osaka asking them not to take her money.

"Yakisoba!" Tomo said, like a sudden and unexpected counter-thrust from a wily fencer.

"Yakisoba," Torako said, her own hunger dragging her into Tomo's moral quagmire.

"Yeah! Let's go eat at a Yakisobery!"

Torako sighed, signaling defeat. "Is there such a thing?"

"Let's find out," Tomo said, opening the glove compartment. She pushed away the dirty ball that was previously in the maroon Civic, and grabbed the GPS.

"Okay," Torako said, as Tomo punched in coordinates, "but we pay her back."

...

There did prove to be a Yakisobery, but it was in Shinjuku. Torako refused to drive that far, so they compromised and settled on a ramen stand instead, an old wood shack with an entrance made of four old cloth curtains, displaying a faded and discolored _Tea House at Koishikawa_.

Torako's day lifted when an old man commented on her car, even making a _Vanishing Point (1971)_ reference. It heartened Torako to know there were people out there in Tokyo that even remotely shared her eclectic interests.

"What is it with old men hitting on you all the time?" Tomo said, after the man had left. "The chief, kennel master Ichiro, Jichiro..."

"They don't hit on me," Torako said. "They're just nicer to me than they are to you."

"A likely story," Tomo said, slurping a long noodle. "Of course, it's no wonder you're a lesbian if old men are all you can look forward too."

Torako lifted her bowl and drained the last of her ramen, ignoring the shocked stares of the cook and the two patrons who were within earshot of Tomo's accusations. Torako placed her bowl on the counter and stood up.

"Let's go," Torako said, whacking Tomo on the back just as she swallowed the last strand of noodle. Tomo started gagging and choking, eventually unclogging her windpipe into a paper napkin.

"You did that on purpose," Tomo rasped, following Torako out of the ramen stand.

"A likely story," Torako said, a smile edging onto her lips.

...

Like they did a week before, Torako and Tomo passed into Taito. Torako performed the same actions as she did last time, maneuvering a car through traffic, but this time, it felt different. Instead of furtive, paranoid glances, and the fear of getting caught acting as a dampener on their secret mission, they drove in like triumphant soldiers returning home. It may not be possible to strut while driving a car, but they certainly came close.

They followed Saito's directions to the gambling den, in the Asakusa district, looking for a den of inequity in a town of holy shrines.

"All of these look deserted," Tomo said, as she followed Torako through an alley, the street paved with cobblestone that hadn't been repaired since the Taisho era. The scent of crumbling concrete rode on a breeze flowing over the Sumida river. Dead paper lanterns of celebrations past hung across the alley, their happy flames long since extinguished. "Saito better not be messing with us. Torako, what if this is a trap?"

"Does it feel like a trap?" Torako said, holding her evidence folder, and looking up at crumbling grey buildings. "Do you hear that?"

"Yeah, it sounds like a river," Tomo said. "Some kind of water. Sumida River?"

"Not this sound," Torako said. She pulled out her notebook, looking at the instructions she had scribbled earlier that day. "Grey concrete building," she said.

"Yeah, which one?" Tomo said.

The two followed the sound of rushing water, getting close enough to identify what the sound truly was.

"It's people," Tomo said. "A lot of people."

They eventually came across a building that matched the description Saito had given them; windows painted black, one light above the entrance, and a plaque with an orange flaming bird on the cover.

"A phoenix," Torako said, looking up at the plaque. "Kind of clichéd."

Tomo jumped up and swatted it with both hands. "Boom," she said, when she landed, her trenchcoat billowing out. "A slam dunk!"

"Hmm," Torako said. "Let's go in."

Torako grabbed the brass knob, worn with age and use, and opened the faded oak door into a lighted foyer, the rich, clean appearance a shocking contrast to the dull and rotted outside. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, reflecting mellow lights on the polished white marble floor. A plush red carpet led from the entrance to a set of walnut doors, polished and reflecting darkly like glass. Leaking through the cracks of these doors was the boisterous chatter of people. Next to the doors was a lectern, with a well-dressed man standing behind it, skinny and androgynous in his tight fitting black suit and his shiny short hair, pomaded closely to his scalp.

"Good evening," he said, his voice wispy and attenuated like a lost royal bloodline. He opened his ledger. "Your names, please."

"Tomo and Torako," Tomo said. "We'd like to speak to Mr. Ping."

"I'm sorry," the door attendant said, "But I know not who that is. I'll see if your names are in the guest ledger."

"Our names won't be in there," Torako said. "This is an impromptu visit."

"Then I apologize, but I won't be allowing you in," he said. "You'll have to make an appointment with our pit boss."

"Whoops, did she say our names aren't on the list? Of course they are," Tomo said, as she flipped out her badge. "See? Our names are always on guest lists."

The man smiled, weak and thin. "Perhaps you are too low to understand the arrangement in this ward," he said. "If you could be so kind to call your superiors-"

"Read her badge," Torako said, rubbing her chin and watching the red velvet curtain draped over the right wall. "We aren't from Taito."

The man paid closer attention to Tomo's badge, not that he had a choice with Tomo thrusting it into his face. "Chiyoda," he said. "Why are you here?"

"To talk to Mr. Ping! Wow, weren't you listening?" Tomo said, as she snapped her badge shut and put it back in her pocket. "Now be a good... whatever you are, and let Mr. Ping know we're coming up, okay?" With an impish grin, Tomo leaned over the lectern, straightened his bow tie, and dusted his shoulder.

The red velvet curtain parted, and a bowlegged man large enough to be a retired sumo wrestler entered the foyer, tapping a baseball bat in his hand.

"I think you guys oughta leave," the thug said. "This is the only warning ya'll are gonna get."

"We want to find out who killed Asagi Ayase," Torako said. The large thug stopped in his tracks, and looked at the door attendant for instructions.

"You think Zhang Ping did it?" The door attendant asked.

"Oh, so you do know who he is," Tomo said. "Wow, you need to get that memory checked. Maybe fatty over there can whack your head a few times."

With a genuinely hurt expression, the thug said, "I'm not fat, okay? I'm stocky. You're just mean."

Tomo, surprise unmasking her formerly impish expression, raised her hands in supplication. "Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it!"

"Yeah, you and my dad," the thug muttered, on the verge of tears.

Torako moved her lips in a silent litany of profanity before speaking aloud. "We would like to ask Mr. Ping some questions," she said. "He's not a suspect. Could you please arrange a meeting as soon as possible?"

The door attendant pursed his lips. "Just a moment," he said, reaching for a phone in the lectern. He punched a number and turned around for some semblance of privacy. Tomo scratched the back of her head and tried to downplay her name-calling to the sniveling thug.

After a stiff greeting, and repeating Tomo and Torako's names, the door attendant hung up the phone. He bowed to Torako, and said, "He'll see you now. Follow me."

The door attendant opened the double doors, and stepped out into the main hall. Tomo, and even Torako, were stunned by what they saw.

This was no shady den stuffed into a dark alley. Craps tables were overflowing with cheers and congratulatory back-slaps, roulette tables captured silent eyes watching the spinning ball, a woman in a black dress won a game of Pai Gow against four other opponents, a shabby man was busy cleaning out a blackjack table while the floor managers whispered that he was counting cards, and floating above it all, like lint floating in a sliver of sunlight, were human voices bound together in the enjoyment and pleasure of vice.

"Torako," Tomo said, tugging Torako's sleeve. "Is that who I think it is?" She pointed toward a well-known idol, tossing die at a craps table.

"Don't attract attention," Torako said, concerned about the Midas look in Tomo's eyes.

The door attendant led them upstairs, past several stern looking closed doors. One door opened and a waitress walked out with an empty tray. Inside were five people and a banker crowded around a Baccarat table; these were the rooms for the high-rollers.

The attendant opened a door uncovering a hallway, covered with emerald-colored satin wallpaper. The attendant led them to the door at the end of the hall, and opened it.

...

Tomo and Torako were asked to make themselves at home, and Zhang Ping would be with them shortly. Torako sat on a brown leather couch and plopped her folder on the glass coffee table. Tomo walked around the room, looking at pictures, and failing at opening locked cabinets. Torako had to stop her from using her lock-picking kit to break open the locks.

"But I want to see what's inside," Tomo said.

They did not have to wait long for Zhang Ping to arrive.

...

"I apologize for making you wait," Zhang Ping said, upon entering the room. "I had to expel a fairly unruly patron who disliked losing millions of yen to a young female player."

Zhang Ping wore a normal black business suit, and a pair of shades. He had a chubby face, with both of his huge cheekbones, red and round, appearing like a baby's balled up fist, his thin lips a rubber band stretched between them.

Instead of bowing, he extended his hands to the two detectives, performing a double shake. "The Tiger herself, burning brightly," he said, smiling to Torako. He shook Tomo's hand the same way, and with such vigor that her head bobbed. "Ms. Takino, a pleasure to meet you."

"Do I get a cool nickname?" Tomo asked.

Zhang Ping made clearing his throat sound like a note of regret. "Please have a seat, sit down, sit down," he said, plopping down in a chair facing the couch.

"I can't say I particularly care about being known," Torako said. "It means we really were sloppy."

"Perhaps, but I wouldn't worry about it," Zhang Ping said. "The hotel incident, with how you handled the beat cop, became legend pretty quickly, not to mention the incident in Ueno Park. And, to top it all off, you introduced Watanabe to your... fearful symmetry."

"Whoa, you already know about that?" Tomo said. "That happened this morning!"

"Not much goes on here, police wise, without me finding out about it," Zhang Ping said. He adjusted his tie. "We have backdoor dealings with the police, but that doesn't mean we like them. If anything, we like them even less for it. You two ladies getting the better of them on three occasions, how you say, endeared you to us."

"Your cronies downstairs didn't seem too impressed with us," Torako said, which was her polite way of calling him a liar.

Zhang Ping waved his hand in dismissal. "He's new here. His predecessor got shanked in prison." He held his fist over his mouth and coughed. "Anyway, it's a pleasure to know of two actual misfits on the police force."

"Misfits?" Tomo said. "What do you mean?"

"I mean no insult," he said, holding up his hands. "But really, neither of you fit the stern stereotype of a Japanese policemen. Your type will never be the stars of a police drama, and that's a good thing. Your chief is a misfit, too," Zhang Ping said, with a half-smile. "It's good that he is your chief, his more straight-laced brethren would've drummed the two of you out a long time ago."

"This is fascinating," Tomo said, in a way that let it be known that it wasn't fascinating at all, "but we have work to do."

"Of course," Zhang Ping said, patting his hair down. He could not sit still. "I was hoping this could be informal, not so much of an... interrogation." He stilled himself, and in a low voice, said, "Will this be an interrogation?"

"It's an interview," Torako said.

"Good, good," he said, brightly.

"But an interview has a person asking questions, and a person answering them. We're the ones asking questions, just to make that clear."

"Perfectly fine! Now, shoot."

"First of all, why are you letting us know about the police collusion here in this ward?" Tomo said. "I mean, for someone engaging in illegal activity, you sure are accommodating."

"Because I'm sure you already knew that anyway," Zhang Ping said, "and, I know you won't do anything about it. They're not why you're here, and this casino isn't why you're here."

"Asagi Ayase," Torako said.

"Yes," Zhang Ping said, making it easy to imagine his eyes filling with tears behind his dark shades. "Sadly, I do not know who killed her, and cannot even begin to guess. She wasn't the type to make enemies."

"Watanabe and Saito tried to muscle in on her gambling operations," Torako said. "That sounds like making enemies right there."

Zhang Ping made a tight-lipped smile. "Do you know what Ms. Ayase did here? It was more than that."

"Ms. Ando said she ran gambling dens," Torako said.

Zhang Ping shook his head. "Ms. Ando doesn't know as much as she would like to believe. Really more of a charity project, her. What Ms. Ayase excelled at, was information."

"Information?" Tomo said. "You mean like secrets? What sort?"

"Part of that," Zhang Ping said. "Listen, this casino, and all of her gambling dens, are just a side project. She sold intel around the world."

They listened as Zhang Ping detailed Asagi's world-wide operations. She was an information broker, and based on what Zhang Ping was saying, the best in the world. She had bases in nearly every country where intel was important: Japan, Russia, China, England, United States, Brazil, and many more. She sold anything from corporate secrets and pending patent requests to competing tech companies, to military secrets.

"We were told you were her right hand man," Torako said.

Zhang Ping laughed. "No, just a manager for this ward's gambling dens, one of many throughout this country. The police here saw me with her more than anyone else, so I guess they assumed I was her right hand man." Zhang Ping's sigh was full of nostalgia. "I don't have the talent for gathering intel like she did. Don't even ask me how she did it, I wasn't privy to that part of her operations. After she was killed, I took over the casino side, and only in this ward. Honestly, I think the intel side has collapsed."

"Collapsed? Seriously?" Tomo said.

"I don't think she had what you'd call a successor," Zhang Ping said. His eyebrows lowered like two downward ramps. "There was another woman that was around her a lot. A sick rose, her. We assumed she was her lover, but-"

"Ms. Ayase was gay?" Tomo said, leaning forward, her face breaking into a grin.

"That's not important," Torako said, with a stiff frown. She picked up her folder and rifled through the contents before settling on the picture of the mysterious woman at the pay phones in Tokyo Station. She tossed the photograph to Zhang Ping and explained the significance of it.

"This is her," Zhang said. "I recognize that hat and dress."

"Ms. Ayase's lover," Tomo said.

"Alleged lover," Torako said. "Would anyone happen to know what she did?"

"Just Asagi," Zhang Ping said, handing the photograph back to Torako. "I'm honestly not sure what she did."

After further questioning concerning Asagi Ayase's operations, and her command structure - which Zhang Ping said was now fractured and separated, although he did provide some new names - Torako pulled out the ring and tossed it to Zhang Ping. Torako and Tomo could nearly see his eyes light up behind his shades.

"Wow," he said, holding up the bag. "How did you get this?"

"Do you recognize it?" Torako said.

"Yes, Asagi had one of these," Zhang said, slowly setting the bag on the table.

"Is that one Ms. Ayase's?" Tomo said, leaning in.

"I couldn't say," Zhang Ping said. "I wasn't a part of it."

"A part of what?" Tomo said.

"This," Zhang Ping said, pointing to the ring. "It's some power club. Politicians, businessmen, important gangsters. Don't ask me what it's about, because I don't know."

"Watanabe had one of these," Torako said.

Zhang Ping snickered. "Yeah, he got one of those by virtue of knowing too much and blackmailing himself into that club. I'm surprised they didn't kill him. He's kind of an overachiever, if you will."

"I will," Torako said, putting away the ring. "Anyone else you could name belonging to this club?"

"I'm afraid not," Zhang Ping said. "Sadly, I'm just a glorified pit boss."

...

Thirty minutes later, Torako and Tomo thanked Zhang Ping for his cooperation, and left the casino.

"So, do we believe him?" Torako asked, when the two had reached their car.

"Not sure," Tomo said. "He was trying awfully hard to be nice to us."

"Too hard," Torako said. "He's probably hoping to use us against the police in this ward. I don't like that he knows what we've been up to." Torako stretched before entering the car. "I feel like we got more done today than we have the past ten days, but in reality, we haven't made that much progress. Just one big game of connect-the-dots."

Torako sat in the car, tossed the folder in the back seat, and entered the key in the ignition. She was about to start the car when she realized that Tomo was still outside. Torako stepped outside and saw Tomo, standing next to the passenger door, staring into space.

"Tomo?"

Tomo slowly broke her starward gaze and stared at Torako.

"Torako," she said. "Let's break this case!"

"That's what we're doing," Torako said.

"No! I mean the whole thing! That secret power club, why the NPSC sealed the case, everything!"

Torako's eyes followed an invisible trail, staring downward before facing Tomo. "No," she said.

"Torako! Why not?"

"I told you, I only want to find Asagi's murderer," Torako said. "This other stuff doesn't matter."

"But it matters to me!" Tomo said, thumping her fist against her chest. "There's a conspiracy going on here, and I want to break it wide open."

"Why?"

"Whaddya mean why? Because it'll be awesome, that's why!" Tomo punched the air. "Hyah! Take that, villain!"

Torako smirked. "Not for justice?"

"Well, uh, yeah, that too," Tomo said, letting escape a nervous, forced laugh. "But come on, you asked me to help you out, and I am. Now, I'm asking you to help me out."

Torako rubbed her chin and stared at the ground.

"Why do you keep rubbing your stubble? Do you need to shave?"

"I don't have stubble," Torako said. "Listen, if we find Asagi's killer, and the chief gives it his approval, sure. We'll deal with this."

"Alright Torako!" Tomo said, thrusting a fist into the air. "Victory!"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Torako said, getting back into the car, Tomo plopping down on her side. "We still got Mr. Mainichi to interview tomorrow."

"Oh, him. Yeah, he was in the casino."

Torako jerked her head toward Tomo. "Seriously?"

"Yep, at that card game in that room the waitress came out of," Tomo said. "He had one of those rings on. I've been looking for them now ever since I saw Watanabe wearing one."

"Wow," Torako said. "I didn't even notice."

"Here's something else," Tomo said, as they both sat in the dark of the car. "This 'she' person Investigator Hayakawa accused us of following. What if it's that girl in the picture? Ms. Ayase's lover?"

"Alleged lover," Torako said. "I wondered that too. Finding her identity is at the top of the list. Surely someone we speak to will know who she is. We'll probably interview Watanabe again. He seems to know a lot about what goes on around here." Torako twisted the key, and the Challenger roared to life. "That's it for tonight, let's go home."

"I've seen one of those rings before all this," Tomo said, wearing an expression that could nearly be mistaken as deep thought.

Torako watched the road. "Where?"

"That's the thing, I can't remember. It's like... I remember a memory of seeing it, you know." Tomo lost the deep-thought expression and bounced back into her hyperactive grin. "Oh well, It'll come to me. If not, it's not important, right?"

"I wonder," Torako said, as she merged into the night traffic.


	15. Chapter 15

"Oh come on," Tomo muttered, as she woke up. She sat up in bed and looked around her dark bedroom, the only illumination from the blue-faced clock on Rico's bed table.

"Bad dream?" Rico said, his voice rising thick and sleepy like heat waves from hot asphalt.

"A stupid one," Tomo said. "What time is it?"

"Five," Rico said. He was lying on his stomach, his head facing away from Tomo and toward the window. "About Torako?"

"What? Why would it be about Torako? That's crazy, I don't dream about her."

"You were saying her name," Rico said. "Sounded kinda... longing."

"It was not!" Tomo said, punching Rico on his shoulder. Rico laughed.

"It's okay," Rico said. He lifted his body and looked at Tomo, patting her on the head. "I knew what I was getting into when I married you."

"Ugh, shut up!" Tomo said, pushing his hand away. She hopped on top of Rico, sitting on his lower back, her hands pushing his face down into his pillow. "And don't ever pat me on the head! I'm not a dog."

"Oh yeah, sorry," Rico said. "Forgot you hate that. Ow!" Rico pulled his earlobe from Tomo's teeth. "Don't get bitey on me."

Tomo moved up toward Rico's shoulders, balancing herself by digging her legs into his back.

"Do I need to build you a jungle gym?"

"Nah, this is good enough," Tomo said, pulling his pillow out from under his head. Rico's head hit the bed with a muted thump.

Rico groaned. "I'm not going to sleep again, am I?"

"Nope!" Tomo said, swatting Rico's head with the pillow. Before she could continue her unorthodox foreplay, the doorbell rang, its ordinary sound now intrusive and unwanted.

"Man," Tomo whined, as she scooted off of Rico and landed on the floor. "Who can it be this early?"

"Don't answer it yet," Rico said, moving his body, slow and ponderous like an oil tanker. He sat up on the bed. "Let me get it."

"You take too long to get ready," Tomo said. "See? I already got my clothes on. You just lay there and think about how awesome I am." The doorbell rang again.

"That better not be Osaka!" Tomo shouted.

"What?" Osaka shouted, through the wall.

Tomo padded into the kitchen and turned on the light. She peeked through the peephole on the door.

She opened it, the chill morning air blowing in like an unwanted visitor. "Oh!" She said. "Sorry, we're not interested in a ménage a trois."

"Is it Kazumi?" Rico shouted from the bedroom.

Tomo shot a look of fiery anger toward the bedroom, nearly singeing Rico's eyebrows.

Torako stepped in. "Too early in the morning to be vulgar," she said, her voice gritty and muted. She stood on the inner rug so she wouldn't have to remove her shoes, and shut the door behind her.

"Ugh, Torako, you sound awful."

"Just allergies," Torako said, sniffing.

"Well, I better not catch anything from you," Tomo said.

"Can't catch another person's allergies," Torako said. "We got called in. Dr. Sakaki's clinic has been burglarized."

"Really? What does that have to do with- wait, is Monsieur Chien okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine," Torako said. "Mr. Ichiro is supposed to pick him up today. Look, you really need to stop turning off your phones at night."

Rico took heavy steps into the kitchen. "Oh hi, Torako," he said. "I'm going to make some coffee. Want to stay for breakfast?"

"Thanks for the offer, but we need to get going," Torako said. "A glass of orange juice will be okay, if you got it."

"You sound awful," Rico said.

"You're so behind the times, Rico," Tomo said. She turned to Torako. "You're going to have breakfast. I'm hitting the bath, I'll be out soon." Tomo jetted off to the bathroom before Torako could protest.

Torako frowned, and began pulling off her boots in preparation of stepping into the kitchen. "I guess I'll have that coffee after all," she said.

"You got it," Rico said.

The door to the bathroom peeked open, letting through a sliver of yellow light. "And don't start making out just because I'm not there," Tomo shouted, before shutting the door.

"What?" Osaka shouted, through the wall.

...

Tomo walked into the kitchen, fully clothed and with slightly damp hair. "Well, this is a lovely domestic scene," she said, as she watched Rico munch on a piece of toast while Torako took a sip of coffee. "But what's this?" Tomo reared back, defending herself with an arm blocking her face. "An interloper in our midst?"

In between Torako and Rico was Osaka, happily oblivious to Tomo's faux shock, rice grains stuck around her mouth.

"She walked in and sat down at the table," Rico said. "I figured it's the least we could do, considering your shouting woke her up."

"Yeah, blame everything on me," Tomo said, sitting down across from Osaka. She scraped some gooey natto on top of her bowl of steamed rice. "Well Osaka, what do you have to say for yourself? Ms. Moochy-pants. Torako, don't you dare talk about her giving us free meals, it's not the same thing."

"We did borrow her rice cooker," Rico said.

"Not the same thing!" Tomo said, shoveling the rice and natto into her mouth. Osaka remained silent and oblivious, methodically delivering food to her mouth.

"Osaka?" Tomo said. She waved her hand in front of Osaka's eyes, but there was no response.

"Been silent since she first stepped in," Torako said. "Think she's sleep walking."

"Sleep eating is more like it," Rico said.

"Gah, how weird," Tomo said. "And who wears pajamas anyway?" Tomo pointed at Osaka's multicolored pajamas with her chopsticks, the ends dyed gold with natto. "It's like wearing a uniform to go to bed. Who does that?"

"Why do you care?" Torako said.

"Because it's unnatural," Tomo said. She harrumphed and continued her breakfast.

They finished eating, except for Osaka. Rico cleaned the table while Tomo and Torako put on their shoes to go out.

"If we're starting this early, I get to go home early," Tomo said. "Later Rico. Try to make Osaka go back to her apartment, if you can."

"I'm not touching her," Rico said, delivering an amused smirk at Osaka. "She'll figure it out soon enough."

"Eh whatever, later." Rico bent down to deliver Tomo's morning kiss before she exited the apartment. Torako stood outside on the balcony, impatient and shivering.

"Let's go!" Tomo said, as she slammed the door shut. The loud bang woke up Osaka, who let out a surprised yelp. "When did I move? This ain't right!"

...

"So, Sakaki's clinic getting broken into," Tomo said, as Torako drove. "What's the big deal?"

"First responders arrive on the scene," Torako said. "Nothing is stolen, but Kazumi hears about it and thinks it's connected to the ring Chien swallowed, when he bit that perp's hand. She calls me about it, so we're going in."

"Leave it to Kazumi to ruin a perfectly good morning," Tomo said. "I was about to get some action."

Torako pretended she didn't hear her. "The suspect got caught on camera, according to the first responders. We're going down to take a look at the film. Sorry, but you'll have to deal with Dr. Sakaki again."

"Yay," Tomo said, her tone as lifeless as an uprooted flower.

...

One police car was in front of the clinic, next to a silver Honda Legend, barely a year old; presumably Sakaki's car. Torako parked the Challenger next to the two cars.

The two showed their badge to the policeman guarding the entrance, and entered the clinic, following the voices to a room in the back, the wall circled with filing cabinets. In the middle was a computer on an old wooden table. A policewoman and Sakaki were standing next to the computer, the policewoman with a notebook, a flap of yellow paper hanging down while she scribbled notes. Sakaki had her back to the entrance, her shiny black hair flowing down to her waist.

The policewoman spotted the two detectives, and smiled. "Investigators, welcome," she said. Sakaki turned around, her expression the same frozen look of neutral severity she had sported since high school. She made a slight nod to the two.

"Morning," Torako rasped. Tomo shot the peace sign at the officer. She made a sidelong look at Sakaki, who appeared to be looking her way. Sakaki showed no reaction. "What's the story here?" Torako said.

"This right here, detective," the policewoman said. She bent over the computer and grabbed the mouse, manipulating it in a hurricane of arrows zipping and right clicking. The security software opened, a video window encased in a variety of commands.

"This setup is a lot nicer than that old hotel," Tomo said. Torako nodded.

The officer played back the video, narrating the action. At 2:00 am that morning, an individual broke into the clinic. The video showed the front door opening.

"We lock all the doors at night," Sakaki said.

The woman was dressed entirely in black, even down to a black face mask with black lenses. She was wearing a one-piece jumpsuit, tightly fitting her obviously womanly frame, with a flap of cloth covering a zipper that started at the crotch and ended at the neck. Not a single speck of flesh was showing.

The policewoman narrated the events of the video, although Tomo and Torako could plainly see what was happening. The woman moved quickly through the building, heading right for the file room. She headed straight for a specific file, and opened the second cabinet from the top. She ran a black clad finger though the folders, snapping plastic labels. She grabbed a folder and pulled it out, opening it and staring at the contents.

"That's Monsieur Chien's folder," Sakaki said.

"I bet she was looking for the ring," Tomo said. Torako nodded, and the policewoman made a confused look toward the two investigators before shrugging it off.

After scanning the contents of the folder, the woman snapped it shut, placed it back in the cabinet, and shut the cabinet. She pulled out a super thin cell phone and held it to her ear.

"No," she said, and then put the phone back. She sprinted back to the entrance, even locking the door behind her.

"Talk about efficient," Tomo said. "She knew exactly where to look. Could it be one of your workers, Dr. Sakaki?"

Tomo was worried that Sakaki was going to play the Ignore Tomo Game again, but she actually answered. "I don't think so," Sakaki said. "None of my female employees are that tall."

"We'll still have to interview them, just to be safe," Torako said, one hand propped against the table. "Officer, could you and your partner do the honors? Conduct it here, I don't think there's any need to bring them to your station."

"Certainly," the policewoman said.

"I'm going to make some coffee," Sakaki said. Without waiting for permission, she walked toward the kitchen, Tomo watching her retreating figure.

"Excuse us a moment, please," Tomo said to the policewoman. She nodded. Tomo tapped Torako on the shoulder and walked into the hallway. Torako followed, taking deliberate steps as if her legs were going to buckle.

"What's up," Torako said, when she met Tomo in the hall.

"You okay? You're walking like an old man," Tomo said.

"Just pain all over. Allergies," Torako said. She smirked. "You didn't call me out here to ask me that."

"Nah," Tomo said, flapping a hand at her. She whispered, "I'm going to the kitchen to talk to Sakaki. Private."

"Sure," Torako said. "Think she'll be more receptive? She seems a little different this morning."

"Yeah, I don't think she took her meds yet, or they haven't kicked in."

Torako cocked her head and frowned. "Meds?"

"I mean, I don't smell them on her."

"How do you smell meds?"

Tomo cleared her throat and leaned in closer to Torako, and spoke surprisingly quiet. "Anti-psychotic meds. Like Seroquel or something. Some people have this sort of... crunchy acidic smell when they take stuff like that. Sorry, that's the best way I can describe it."

Torako couldn't hide her amazement. "You can actually smell that?"

"Well, it's on the breath, too," Tomo said. "I sort of guessed, based on how she acted. It's like she was fighting to have a reaction to things. It's not that special, a lot of people can tell that stuff."

Torako shook her head. "I can't. That's amazing."

Tomo shrugged, and let escape a little sigh.

"You okay?" Torako said.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"Well, no offense, but I just praised you, and you're modest about it. Usually you launch into some speech about how awesome you are."

"Come on Torako, it's not that big a deal," Tomo said, louder. "I'm going to the kitchen."

"Okay," Torako said. "I'll handle stuff up here." Torako watched her leave, and decided she knew the truth of Tomo's reaction; it made Tomo uncomfortable that she knew Sakaki took anti-psychotic medication.

...

Tomo walked into the kitchen, making enough noise to let Sakaki know that she was there. A pot of coffee was brewing, and Sakaki was standing in front of it, like a sentinel guarding an ancient treasure.

Tomo hopped on a counter and cleared her throat.

"Sakaki?" she said.

Sakaki stood still, watching the coffee drip into the pot. She eventually said, "Yes?"

What am I going to say? Tomo thought. She closed her eyes, opened them, and said, "It's not your fault."

Sakaki slowly turned her body at the waist, and watched Tomo, her expression one of neutral waiting.

"You did the best you could," Tomo said.

Sakaki remained silent. Tomo lowered her head, and said, "I'm sorry. About... about what happened."

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," Sakaki said. She turned around, back to observing the brewing coffee.

"Do you... do you keep up with the others?" Tomo said. Sakaki didn't answer.

Tomo swung her legs back and forth, watching Sakaki's back. Fighting a mental battle with herself, Tomo trudged forward. "Osaka's back."

A nearly inaudible gasp escaped from Sakaki, and she turned around, her big dark grey eyes showing gentle surprise. "Osaka. How is she?"

"Good," Tomo said. "Runs a restaurant. Lives next door to me, actually." Tomo hopped down from the counter. "I can give you the address to her restaurant. She makes some really great Mexican food."

"I would like that," Sakaki said. Tomo pulled out a pen and notebook and wrote the address to Osaka's taqueria. She handed the slip of paper to Sakaki, who took it in her long, elegant fingers and held it to her face. She put it in her pocket, and turned back to her coffee.

Tomo watched her for a bit before speaking. "I'm going back up front," Tomo said. "Let me know if you need anything."

Tomo didn't wait for an answer as she turned around to leave. Sakaki said, "Tomo?"

Without turning around, Tomo said, "Yeah?"

"Would you like some coffee?"

"Sure, Sakaki," Tomo said. "That would be great."

...

"I got the two police officers here to stand guard and interview the workers," Torako said, when Tomo appeared up front. "They'll call them all in at nine o'clock, which is when the clinic officially opens."

"So, what do we do?" Tomo said.

"Not much," Torako said. Sakaki came from the back, holding two cups of coffee. She gave one to Tomo, who thanked her and took a sip. Torako did her best not to ruin the gesture by smiling.

"I'm going to check around the premises," Tomo said.

...

Tomo finished her fruitless search of the clinic grounds. She entered the clinic waiting room and saw Monsieur Chien, his leash leading to a person standing in the hallway, obscured from Tomo's vision.

"Monsieur Chien!" Tomo said, reaching down to pet him.

"Don't touch him, you brute," a hoary voice said, coming from the hallway. Mr. Ichiro, the salty old kennel master, stepped into the waiting room, holding Monsieur Chien's leash.

"Gah!" Tomo said. "It's a mummy!"

"Shut it," Mr. Ichiro said. "Don't have you have other dogs to stab?"

Torako, foreseeing a shouting match, quickly excused herself from the officer and walked toward the waiting room.

"Mr. Ichiro's here to pick up Monsieur Chien," Torako said, stating the obvious to forestall the inevitable.

"I see that," Tomo said. "Need a wheelchair, old man?"

"Don't," Torako said.

"You don't need to stop her, Torako," Mr. Ichiro said, fixing Tomo with a sour look. "I can take whatever that little runt can dish out."

"Runt? You're an old midget!"

"I'm giving you a new name," Mr. Ichiro said. "Takino the dog-stabber."

"I didn't stab him!" Tomo said. "I'm sorry it happened, okay? Lay off!"

"She did feel really bad about it," Torako said, trying to soothe Mr. Ichiro.

"Feeling bad about your wrongs doesn't take away the damage," Mr. Ichiro said. He waited for Tomo's comeback, but Tomo appeared stricken by his words. He cleared his throat. "Of course, I'm not really angry at you. That office lackey, though, should've known not to send a scent hound on a capture operation."

"Yeah, it's his fault!" Tomo said. "Be angry at him!"

"Hmph," Mr. Ichiro said, the closest he ever came to agreeing with Tomo. He relented and let Monsieur Chien approach Tomo. Tomo petted and fawned over him while he wagged his tail.

"If Chien's letting you do all that, I guess he's not angry," Mr. Ichiro said. "I'm gone, detectives. Good luck with your investigation."

After he left, Torako said, "He was surprised about seeing us here. He heard we were suspended."

"Did you tell him?" Tomo said.

"No, he didn't ask," Torako said. "He's good at minding his own business."

"He needs to mind his own business into retirement," Tomo muttered. The two decided operations were over, and said their goodbyes to the two police officers and Sakaki.

...

"Looks like you got through to the ice queen, if she's getting you coffee," Torako said, as she drove away from the clinic. It was still dark outside, although dawn was beginning to break up the twilight. The two drove into the blue hour.

Tomo's elbow was resting on the armrest, her head propped on her hand. She was gazing out of the passenger side window.

"I told her Osaka was back," Tomo said.

Torako eyed the road. "Really."

"Yeah. I don't think Sakaki keeps up with her friends anymore."

"How do you figure that?" Torako said. Tomo didn't answer.

"I hate bringing this up," Torako began.

"Then don't."

"I promise I'm not digging into your past, but wouldn't Sakaki seeing Osaka... well, wouldn't she tell Osaka what went on with your group? Or am I striking out here?"

"She might," Tomo said.

"So... aren't you risking an awful lot by telling Sakaki where Osaka is?"

"I guess," Tomo said. "I don't think Osaka's the type of person to just, you know, ditch someone..."

"Yes?"

"That's enough," Tomo said.

Torako let her be. She hated the pensive, moody Tomo, and it was showing up too much lately.

"I'm going to grab something for my throat," Torako said. "Sunrise is coming up. Let's watch it."

...

There were sitting outside on a bench in front of a convenience store, Torako eating a pastry, Tomo nearly inhaling her can of juice, when Torako's phone rang. Torako spoke a greeting, and pulled out her notebook and pencil, writing an address.

"That was Kazumi," Torako said, after she had hung up.

"What does she want?" Tomo said, not bothering to hide her contempt.

"We might've hit paydirt on the jewelry angle," Torako said. "A jeweler in Chiyoda, Nux Vomica Jewelers, ordered 99% pure platinum over the past two years. No other jeweler in the entire city ordered platinum that pure."

"Wow," Tomo said. "Um, what does Nux Vomica stand for?"

"No idea," Torako said. "We'll go over there and show him the ring, see if they make it. They don't open till 9:00, though. Two hours to burn."

"Let's do some karaoke!"

"Hell no."

"Let's go to the arcade!"

Torako sighed. "Did you magically come into money since yesterday? And I don't mean stealing Osaka's."

"Nope!" Tomo said, cheerfully. "You're going to loan me yours!"

"I don't have any either," Torako said. She noticed Tomo staring at her.

"What?"

"Torako, you're sounding kinda bad there."

"Yeah," Torako said. She threw her wrapper in a garbage can next to the bench. "I feel worse, too."

"How about we hit the doctor, then?"

Torako grimaced and shook her head. "We'll be cutting it too close. I doubt I can be in and out with enough time to get to the jewelers when it opens."

"So? It'll be open all day."

"I want to be ready and waiting for him," Torako said.

...

Torako suggested going to her house, and could only guess at the meaning of Tomo's nervous, twitching refusal to do so. So they went to a local bookstore and browsed, until thirty minutes before nine when Torako tapped Tomo's shoulder and said it was time to go. Twenty minutes later, they parked in front of Nux Vomica Jewelers. Shortly afterwards, they watched a woman their age, perfectly dressed and with expertly applied makeup, unlock the front door and switch the closed sign to open. Tomo and Torako got out of the Challenger and jogged toward the jewelry store, Torako carrying the evidence folder.

The flung open the door, setting off a digitized bell. The woman turned around, not a strand of hair out of place.

"Good morning," she said, bowing. "You two must've been waiting to come in so early. Have we met before? You two look familiar. Are you expecting an order?"

"No ma'am," Torako said. "We need your expert opinion."

"Oh my," the woman said. "You sound awful. Are you coming down with a cold?"

"Just allergies," Torako said, already tiring of that verbal dance. She took out her badge, as did Tomo. "It's an investigation. You aren't a suspect, so don't worry."

"Well, I'll certainly do what I can to help the police," the woman said. "Follow me to the back, if you don't mind." She turned around and headed toward her office, flowing gracefully like a leaf on the wind. She stopped and turned around, her hand covering her mouth.

"Where are my manners?" She said. "My name is Reiko Tanaka, the owner of this store. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She bowed again, this time more formally.

...

"I hope you don't mind if we get down to business," Torako said, when they had entered her cramped and cluttered office.

"Not a bit," Reiko said. "What do you have on your mind?"

Torako reached into her pocket and pulled out the clear evidence bag containing the ring. "This," she said. "We're looking for the jeweler who made it."

"Oh, I made this," Reiko said, with a smile.

Tomo let out a burst of air. "Finally!" she said. "Someone who doesn't give us the runaround!"

"We're trying to trace its owner," Torako said, "and were wondering if you could help us."

"I may not be able to," Reiko said, taking the bag. She opened it and looked at the ring. "I've made twelve of these over the past two years, all exactly the same. It's hard to find platinum that pure, but they pay me well."

"It's this 'they' we're trying to find out about," Tomo said. "The rings can't be all the same finger size, right? Couldn't you tell by that?"

"Not exactly," Reiko said, shaking he head. "I was given their size over the phone, so I never met them in person. I do have some receipts, though, but I don't think you'll like them."

"Well, let's see them!" Tomo said.

...

Tomo studied the receipts, but her eager face descended into disgust.

"This doesn't help!" Tomo said. "These have all got to be aliases!" She dropped the receipts on Reiko's desk and plopped down in the guest chair. "More dead ends."

Torako picked up the receipts and shuffled through them. "They're all named Taro," she said.

"And what's with those last names?" Tomo said. "Taro YaYa, Taro Bigboote, Taro Smallberries, Taro Littletaro... what does that crap mean?"

"Taro Icicle Boy, Taro Mudhead," Torako read. She groaned and tossed the receipts on the desk, and met Reiko's sympathetic smile with a resigned frown.

"I'm sorry, but that's how she signed them," Reiko said.

Tomo scooted to the edge of the seat. "She? It was only one person buying these?"

"Well, I think she was more like a courier," Reiko said, placing a finger on her chin in imitation of remembering. "I don't remember her name. Always wore hats and sunglasses."

Torako rolled her eyes, while Tomo buried her hands in her face, making fake and exaggerated weeping noises. Torako disgustedly pulled out the picture of the mysterious Tokyo Station caller from her folder, and placed it on Reiko's desk.

"Yes, that's her!" Reiko said. "I recognize that hat and those glasses."

"Great!" Tomo said, holding her arms out in exasperated resignation. "We're getting nowhere. Can you remember anything about her, ma'am?"

"Well, that's the thing," Reiko said. "I've seen you two before, and now, I think I saw you with this woman."

Tomo froze solid while Torako stopped breathing. "You what?"

"Seen you three together, somewhere. I can't place it, though." Reiko tapped her chin with her finger.

Tomo, pale beyond what was healthy, looked at the obviously distressed Torako. "No," Tomo said, shaking her head. "It can't be."

"She can't mean Osaka," Torako said, trying to control her breathing, saying it louder than she wanted to.

Tomo jumped up from her chair and slammed her hands down on Reiko's desk. Startled, Reiko jumped out of her chair. "Tell us where you've seen us! Was it at Ueno Park? A hotel?"

"Oh no, none of those places," Reiko said, making nervous glances between Tomo and Torako. "It was on T.V."

Tomo reared back while Torako displayed a genuinely confused look, a rarity for her. "T.V.?" Tomo said. "What do you mean?"

Reiko's face lit up, and she snapped her fingers. "Oh, that's right! That kidnapping! You two got publicly thanked by Oda Otomo."

Tomo's face scrunched in confusion, while Torako desperately wanted a cigarette. As if they were looking into a mirror, Tomo and Torako's faces softened into stunned, baffled realization. "Aya Suzuki," they both said at the same time.

"Yes, that's who she is," Reiko said. "District One rep's secretary. She's the one who picked up the rings when I was finished with them."

Tomo and Torako quickly thanked Reiko for her cooperation, hastily tossed a business card on her desk, and ran outside.

...

"What the hell?" Tomo shouted, when they jumped back in the car. "What is going on here?"

"I don't know," Torako said, starting it and driving away, making the tires squeal. "Let's trace this from the beginning. Let's say this is Aya Suzuki. So, Aya works for Oda and Asagi at the same time? Was it some kind of business relationship, or was she playing the two?"

Tomo slapped her fist into her palm. "Ms. Ayase ordered Aya Suzuki's kidnapping," Tomo said. "Her murder was in retaliation for the kidnapping!"

Torako gripped the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles turned white. "How did you come up with that?"

"Zhang Ping," Tomo said. "When he was talking about that door attendant not recognizing us. Remember, he said he was replacing the old door attendant, who got shanked in prison! He was talking about Baldy!"

"Baldy," Torako said. "Hasegawa. That doesn't make any sense. Why would Asagi order the kidnapping of a close confidant?"

"Well, maybe Ms. Ayase figured out that her lover was double-crossing her for Oda."

"Alleged lover," Torako said.

"See, Ms. Ayase deals in intel, according to Zhang Ping. Oda Otomo wanted a slice of that, so he had Aya infiltrate her organization-"

"That's kind of ridiculous," Torako said. "How can a secretary for a prominent politician infiltrate anything?"

"How do we know she's really his secretary?" Tomo said. "Oda's the first one who called her that! He can't call up the cops and say, 'Oh, my secret agent infiltrating a criminal organization for my own needs is kidnapped,' he has to call her a secretary so he won't get found out!"

Torako shook her head. "This doesn't answer the real question."

"Which is?"

"Who killed Asagi?"

"Yeah, well... uh, where are we going?"

"My doctor."

"Oh."

"The stress of thinking it was Osaka... well, I feel worse than ever. After the doctor, I'll drop you off. I'm calling it a day. Sorry."

"Hey, no complaints from me!" Tomo said. "Man, I about had a heart attack myself." Tomo let out a giggle. "Did we... did we really think it was Osaka?"

Torako snorted. "Yeah, I think..." Torako let escape an uncharacteristic chortle. "I think we did."

Tomo let the dam burst, and filled the car with laughter. "What were we thinking!" she said, in between laughs. "Osaka? We lost our minds!"

"S-stop!" Torako said, choking back laughter. "You're making me worse."

...

Tomo went in to the waiting room with Torako, and grabbed a handful of newspapers.

"What're you looking for?" Torako said.

"Oda Otomo," Tomo said. "I remember where I saw that ring before. He had one."

"Hmm," Torako said. She leaned in close to Tomo. "Keep your voice down."

"Yeah, yeah," Tomo said. "Don't breathe your germs all over me." After flipping through the last page of the last newspaper, she dumped them in the chair next to her. "There were two pictures of him, but not of his hand."

"I'll take your word for it that he has one," Torako said. Her name was called by the nurse.

...

Bored with waiting, Tomo wandered outside and picked the lock to the Challenger, sitting down in the passenger side. Shortly, Torako came out, limping, and holding a bag.

"Ah ha," Tomo said, pointing an antagonistic finger at Torako. "You got a shot in the butt."

"Yep," Torako said. "Feel a little bit better."

"What? Man, I wanted to go home."

"We are going home," Torako said. "I need to take my meds and go to bed."

After the car pulled into the street, Tomo said, "We're going to interview Aya Suzuki and Oda Otomo, right?"

"Of course," Torako said. "When I get better."

"Okay," Tomo said. "I'd like to interview the two of them together. Get to the bottom of this."

"We still got a list of Asagi's henchmen we got from Zhang Ping," Torako said. "Not to mention Mr. Mainichi."

"Oh, small fries," Tomo said. "They can wait."

"Listen, don't you take it on yourself to interview Oda on your own. We need to do it together, okay?"

"Oh, don't worry," Tomo said. "We will!"

...

After Torako dropped Tomo off, Tomo took a bus to Oda Otomo's office.

Tomo entered the office of the district one representative, located in Chiyoda near the Diet building. She marched up to the receptionist and flashed her badge, asking to talk to Oda Otomo directly.

"Just a moment," the receptionist said.

"You know what? Don't worry about it. I'll show myself in." Tomo marched toward the elevator, scanned the directory, and entered. Three floors later, she exited onto the district one rep's floor.

She followed the arrows pointing the way to Otomo's office, answering the confused looks and queries by a casual flash of her badge. She came to the door with Oda Otomo's name etched into the glass, and marched right in.

It was the secretary's office. Aya Suzuki looked up, recognized who it was, and nearly gasped in terror.

"Hiya Aya," Tomo said, with a friendly wave. Inwardly, she felt disappointment. I guess she's his secretary after all, she thought.

Tomo pulled a chair out and plopped down in to it, smiling at Aya the whole time. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd check up on you. How've you been doing? Everything going okay for you?"

"Y-yes," Aya said, as shy as a wilting flower. "Um, I've been doing... fine!"

"Good to hear it," Tomo said. "I don't know if you heard or not, but Ba-, um, Hasegawa, your old kidnapper, got shanked in prison."

Aya visibly flinched when Tomo mentioned Hasegawa by name. "I had heard about it," Aya said. "Our lawyer told us it happened."

"Yep! A real shame," Tomo said. She stretched, and put her hands behind her back, propping up her head. She couldn't stop smiling at Aya. "I guess we'll never figure out why you got kidnapped, huh?"

"I-I thought it was for ransom money," Aya said.

"Well, that's what they said," Tomo said, "But who knows what their real motivations were? Any theories? If you feel up to talking about it, of course. I bet that whole incident was pretty traumatizing, huh?"

The phone on Aya's desk rang. Aya picked it up and hit a button. She had no time to say hello before she had hung it up.

"Mr. Otomo will see you now," Aya said, standing up and heading to the door behind her desk.

"Really? Why? I didn't make an appointment with him," Tomo said, inwardly rejoicing. "I came to see you. What's he want to see me for?"

"He- he didn't say," Aya said. She grasped the doorknob. "Could you... see him for a moment?"

"Sure I can!" Tomo said, shooting out of her chair. Aya opened the door and Tomo stepped through.

Oda Otomo, sporting a fresh winning smile, stood behind his desk and bowed. "Tomo Takino!" he said. "Such a pleasure to have you over. Very fine indeed!"

The tall Oda Otomo appeared boyish and fresh-faced, showing that he was barely out of his teens. At twenty-four, he had made history as the youngest person to ever win a seat at the diet. He displayed all of his charm on Tomo, who, naturally, had seen and did too much to be swayed by it.

"Please, have a seat," he said, gesturing toward the guest chair like he was showing his generosity.

"Thanks Mr. Otomo," Tomo said, sitting down. "I dropped by to visit Aya, so I hope I'm not wasting your time."

"Oh, we just love our Aya," Oda said, not once breaking his wide, toothy smile. "She's a dear. I hate thinking about what she went through." His facial expression changed to a compassionate lip-biting hurt, tears nearly glistening in his eyes. Tomo was impressed by his expert facial control, although she didn't say it.

"But we got her back, thanks to you and your partner's crack shot. How is the Tiger doing nowadays?"

"Fine," Tomo said, explaining that she was sick and had to go to the doctor.

"Uh huh, uh huh," Oda said, in such a way to imply that he really wasn't listening or cared, but too subtle to call him on it. The door opened, and Aya stepped in, her head down. She held a tray with tea.

"Ms. Suzuki!" Oda said, "Come in, come in, thanks for the tea!"

"You're welcome, sir," Aya said. Tomo had a suspicion that Aya was putting on a show, but she had no proof to back it up, only a feeling.

Aya poured the tea into the cup, serving Tomo first, and then Mr. Otomo.

"You can leave the tea here, Aya," Oda said. Aya nodded, and left.

Oda grabbed his cup, his ring finger bandaged, and took a swig. "Good stuff!"

"It's nice," Tomo said, after taking a sip of hers. No 'damn fine tea' theatrics for now.

Oda wasted time smiling aimlessly at Tomo while she drank her tea. "So, Ms. Takino, how've you been? Married, right?"

"Yes sir," Tomo said, feeling heat well up inside. She started to sweat.

"Nice, nice," he said. "Foreign national, right? From Brazil?"

"Yes sir, but he has dual citizenship. How did you know?"

"I did a lot of research on you and Ms. von Wallenstein before I thanked you in public," Oda said. He shifted into a look of concern. "Are you okay? Are you feeling hot?"

"No, I'm-" Torako wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. "I'm okay."

"Good," Oda said, switching back to his ready-made smile. "I can turn the air-conditioner on if you need it. So, you managed to cover-up the beach house incident, huh?"

Tomo stared at Oda. "What?" She rubbed the side of her face. Did I catch Torako's junk?

"You and Torako have been partners for nine months, right? Nine months. Like pregnancy, isn't it?" Oda leaned back and quoted:

What rough beast, its hour come round at last

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

"I was in a band in college called the Rough Beats," he said, laughing. "We slouched toward the stage and birthed awful music."

"What was... what was that about a beach house?"

"Beach house? I said nothing about a beach house. So, wouldn't it be awful if Rico lost his citizenship and got deported? You wouldn't know what to do with yourself, would you?"

Tomo, the room spinning around her, sweat dripping into her eyes, stared at her half empty cup of tea, and understood.

"You son of a bitch!" She threw her cup at Oda's head, who ducked out of the way, the tea splashing the seal of Japan behind him. Tomo staggered out of her chair and pulled out her bokken. She took one step forward, faltered, and saw the ceiling slowly enveloped by darkness.


	16. Chapter 16

At the end of a corridor as black as the deepest mineshaft was a speck of light and a sliver of sound. The corridor shrunk as the light and sound grew, the light taking on shape, texture, and color, the sound revealing a mechanical rhythm, lacking melody. The corridor evaporated as the light and sound overtook and conquered it, and when the light and sound was all that was left, Tomo was awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the ringing phone.

"Gah!" She shot upright. Splotches of color and eruptions of pain stabbed her brain, telling her she got up a little too quick, and maybe you want to take it easy there, eh? Tomo rubbed her temples.

"Geez," she said in a voice that sounded too rough and scratchy to be hers. "What's going on?" The stiff bedsprings creaked as she moved her legs over the side. She stood up, ready to find the ringing phone. Her feet hit a bundle of clothing, and Tomo realized she was naked.

Tomo stood blinking, trying to force the room to overtake the blotchy purples and pinks draped over her vision, like a layer of dust on a camera lens. She took a step and staggered hard.

"Stupid... what is this?" She blinked and tried to find the phone. Tomo already knew this wasn't her room, but she was able to make a visual confirmation as the blotches retreated from her eyes. A wood floor with no covering, a wicker chair in the corner, and a glass door covered with a thin ethereal curtain, guarding the room and Tomo's eyes from the peculiarly bright sun. There was a rushing, sweeping sound from outside... traffic?

The phone was still ringing, and Tomo turned herself around like a broken merry-go round, taking little steps so she wouldn't fall due to the dizziness pounding her head. She decided she was going to beat Oda Otomo within an inch of his life. Aya, too.

She faced the bed, and instead of focusing on the common white phone on the bed table under a lamp, she saw the naked body of a woman with her throat cut.

Tomo bit her lip hard, grabbed the sheets, and ripped them off the bed. Her first feeling was relief that she didn't know who the dead woman was. The second feeling was guilt at feeling relief. The third feeling she said aloud, "I am getting out of here!"

She had been a cop too long, having seen her share of dead bodies, to react in fear, but the thought that she woke up next to a corpse nauseated her. The dizziness scooted away but remained in the background, like a delinquent leaning against a brick wall, tossing mean stares Tomo's way. She got on the floor and hastily grabbed her clothing, tossing away mystery clothing that she guessed was the dead woman's. The phone continued ringing, like avant-garde background music to a pretentious student film.

Tomo pulled her clothes on in record time. She thought everything was accounted for until she patted her green trenchcoat, pouring through each pocket, noticing the absence her wallet, badge, and cellphone - although her bokken was still there.

It was only after she grabbed the sheets and tossed them on her side of the bed, getting on all fours to look underneath, seeing nothing there, that she realized she better not leave any fingerprints.

She grabbed the edge of her coat to use as a glove, grabbing the handle on the bed table next to her bed and ripping it out, doing the same to every latch and handle in the room that could be opened or pulled. She did not find her items.

"I'm not going to answer you!" she shouted at the ringing phone.

She opened the door with the edge of her coat, and sprinted down the hall, the dizziness strutting in just long enough to give her an angry stare, reminding her not to push it. She wasn't sure if anyone else was in the house, but she had to find her stuff. Movement through a window caught her eye, and she ducked into the kitchen.

Through the kitchen window facing the street, through the same style of white diaphanous curtains in the room she woke up in, Tomo saw two black vans in the driveway and at least six men running toward the house. Policemen. Worse, they were wearing armor and facemasks, and carrying assault rifles, making Tomo think of the Special Assault Team. Even worse, they weren't from her ward. Leaving behind belongings that could ID her was a terrible idea, but staying to get caught, she decided, was worst of all.

She sprinted to the front door, locked it, and ran back to the room she came from. She shut the door as fast as she could, stopping it at the last moment so it wouldn't slam, and locked it. She grabbed the curtains and the handle of the sliding glass door, reminded herself to say a prayer for the deceased, pushed open the door, and stepped out onto a wooden deck with the beach below and the rushing waves lapping against the shore, twelve meters away.

Tomo stumbled, an action she was quickly growing tired of. She gritted her teeth and headed for the stairs, thankful, at least, that it wasn't _that_ beach house. At the top of the stairs she saw what looked like a hut on the beach, maybe a hundred meters away. After running down several steps, she judged her distance, decided it was good, and jumped the twelve remaining steps, landing both feet into the sand like a long jump athlete at the Olympics.

Despite waking up in a strange house next to a dead body, losing her phone and her means of identification, and having the SAT after her, Tomo still remained Tomo, and raised her fists in the air in celebration of her perfect landing.

She recovered and ran underneath the deck, the sun staring past the gaps in the wood and coloring the sand beneath with light and shadow in alternating patterns like bars in a jail cell. The beach itself traveled inland for fourteen meters before hitting a steep cliff that jutted upward for ten meters, the beach house built on top.

Tomo ran toward the hut, each step molding the dry sand with the sole of her shoe, keeping next to the cliff, which was sloping downward and met the hut at its parking lot. Tomo didn't bother to cover her footprints because it'd take too long, and she knew once the SAT saw the hut, they'd be heading there immediately.

It wasn't until halfway there that Tomo realized how awful she felt, like she wanted to lie down right there and take a nap. What kept her going (besides survival) was the hope that what she saw in the hut's parking lot was exactly what she thought it was.

"No way," she said, too overcome with joy and relief to question the sheer coincidence of what she was seeing. It was a way out, a rescue. It was a Daihatsu Hijet van, with 'Osaka's Taqueria' printed on the side.

...

Tomo burst open the doors to the hut, stuffed with surfboards and overly tanned surfers. The people turned their heads at the explosive entrance. The cashier, confusion on his face, stopped talking to the girl of Tomo's dreams.

"Osaka!" Tomo shouted, the surfer standing closest to Tomo inadvertently ducking.

Osaka turned around, presenting Tomo with a creamy smile. "Hey, it's Tomo! Hi Tomo!"

Tomo grabbed Osaka's hand and pulled her away. "Osaka! Get me out of here, now! Don't ask questions, just do it!"

"Uh, okay," Osaka said, Tomo pulling her toward the door. "Hope ya'll enjoy the food!" She waved at the departing surfers with her free hand.

Tomo busted through the doors and looked at the beach house in the distance, the SAT on the deck, two members hustling down the stairs.

"Crap!" Tomo said, letting go of Osaka's hand and dodging behind the van. "Osaka, hurry up and get us out of here!"

...

"What was that about?" the cashier said, as the van drove away.

"Hell if I know," a shirtless skinny teenager said, "but hey, we got food. Let's dig in."

The surfers crowded around the paper box holding its bundles of Mexican goodness, tacos wrapped in their paper blankets like newborns at a maternity ward.

"Great idea ordering this stuff," one of the surfers said.

"Eh? I didn't order it, I thought you ordered it!"

"I didn't order it," he said, filling his mouth with taco.

"Okay," the cashier said, dropping his taco. "Who ordered this stuff? Because whoever it is owes me money."

No one raised their hand.

"Oh come on! I just paid for twenty tacos, and someone had to order it. Why the hell would she come here?"

"Beats me," the skinny surfer said through a mouthful of taco.

The cashier made an exasperated grunt. "Great. So she's a rip-off artist." He looked down at his counter and grabbed a phone handle. "And she left the phone off the hook too," he said, slamming the phone back in its cradle.

"Uh, guy?" a surfer said, pointing toward the window.

"What?"

The SAT burst into the hut, guns drawn, and demanded that everyone get on the floor.

...

Tomo borrowed Osaka's phone in the same way a thief borrows a purse. She punched in Torako's number and waited.

"Doesn't this thing go any faster?" Tomo said.

"Sorry, it tops out at 120," Osaka said.

"You're going fifty!" Tomo shouted, pointing at the speedometer. "Faster!"

The phone clicked on the other end. "Meh," Torako answered, her voice hollow.

"Torako!"

"Tomo?" A blade of concern sliced through Torako's voice. "Are you okay? Where have you been?"

"That's not important right now! I'm- wait. Osaka? Where are we?"

"Pismo Beach."

"Pismo Beach!" Tomo pulled the phone from her ear and delivered a stunning, derisive look at Osaka. "This isn't Pismo Beach!"

"Oh, well, I guess I got lost then," Osaka said. "I knew I shoulda taken that left turn at Arakawa."

"What is wrong with you?" Tomo shouted. "How have you lived this long?"

"Tomo, calm down," Torako said. Tomo put her ear back on the phone. "Are you still in Tokyo?"

Tomo asked Osaka, expecting the worst. Her answer wasn't the worst, but it wasn't good.

"Kujukuri," Torako said, when Tomo told her. "Chiba? Damn, that's a ninety-minute drive from here. You guys must've been on Kujukuri beach."

"Yeah! We're coming back to Tokyo." Tomo turned to Osaka. "We are going back to Tokyo, right?"

"I sure hope so," Osaka said. "That's where I'm aiming."

"Tomo, what's going on?" Torako said.

"SAT is after me," Tomo said. "At least, I think they're SAT. They had guns and armor and facemasks and stuff."

"SAT doesn't wear facemasks," Torako said.

"Well, whatever they are, they're out to get me! Torako, don't get mad, but I went to Oda Otomo's office after you dropped me off."

"I knew it," Torako said, not hiding her irritation. "I told you to wait until I got better."

"Oh come on Torako," Tomo said. "Let me finish this story."

Tomo related to Torako the meeting with Aya and Oda Otomo, waking up at a beach house, the dead body, her escape, and finding Osaka at a nearby surf hut.

"What was she doing there?" Torako said.

"Delivering tacos, I think," Tomo said. "Didn't you hear me mention the dead body?"

Silence reigned on the other end. Tomo strained her hearing, trying to imagine the crinkling of cigarette paper as it was lit, but she couldn't even hear that. Tomo was about to ask if Torako was still there, when Torako said, "Give Osaka the phone."

"Okay," Tomo said, "it's hers anyway." She handed Osaka the phone.

"Hey Torako," Osaka said. "Yeah, I'm... what?" Osaka was silent while she listened to Torako speak. Tomo tried to eavesdrop, but Torako was speaking in a quiet, even tone. "I promise," Osaka said. "I wasn't allowed... sorry. I will."

Osaka handed the phone back to Tomo without looking at her or saying a word. Tomo snatched the phone with a sardonic glance at Osaka's weirdly intense study of the road, and answered, "What was that about?"

"Giving Osaka directions on where to go," Torako said.

"Yeah, sure," Tomo said, not mentioning that Osaka's responses didn't sound like someone receiving driving instructions.

"Wait," Torako said, "why are you using Osaka's phone?"

"Oh, I can't find mine," Tomo said. "Or my badge and wallet."

"Call Kazumi now," Torako said, severe and forceful. "Tell her your stuff is stolen. Make her backdate the report by three days. Tell her I take full responsibility. I'm going to meet up with you guys at a curb store in Chiba City."

...

After an uneventful drive of forty minutes, the buildings of Chiba City jutted into view. The faint smell of food in the van constantly reminded Tomo of her hunger.

"I feel like I haven't eaten in days," she said. "Are we there yet?"

"Just about," Osaka said, turning off the highway. She sighed wistfully. "This isn't the gleaming cyberpunk skyline I was promised in my youth."

Tomo grimaced and stared at Osaka with an arched eyebrow and lips puckered to the side. "Osaka? You're a dear friend and all, but I swear you are the weirdest gal I ever met."

Osaka surprised Tomo with her ability at following directions, not that Osaka had a reputation as one who got lost all the time, but Tomo expected her to. The curb store was a dinky outfit, perhaps built in the late 70s and never remodeled. Tomo figured it was probably owned by one of those old guys that smoke all the time and never sell out, preferring to keep their business running while the neighborhood updates around them.

"Ugh, why did Torako tell us to come here?" Tomo said, as she hopped out of the Hijet. She grabbed the side mirror to steady her wobbly legs. "I bet everyone in here has helmet haircuts and wears polyester suits."

"They all look bald to me," Osaka said, following behind Tomo. Tomo entered the store and followed her nose to pork buns simmering in a bamboo pot, while Osaka squatted in front of the bags of niboshi and giggled to herself.

Later, Tomo walked up to Osaka, cradling a bag of pork buns. "I told the guy you'd buy my stuff," she said.

Osaka pointed to the bags of niboshi. "It's like they're trying to escape," Osaka explained. Tomo munched at the doughy, meaty treat while studying the bag of captive fish.

"Why don't you buy a bag and let them free?" Tomo said.

"They're all dead, Tomo."

"Well... you could set their souls free."

Without Torako or Rico to rein them in, Tomo and Osaka pushed their collective silliness to its natural boundaries. They exited the store, Tomo working on her second pork bun while Osaka held up her bag of niboshi and giggled in joy. They were approaching the van when they heard the distant but distinct demonic puttering of the Challenger.

"Hey, it's Jerome!" Osaka said.

"Jerome? That's Torako, dummy!"

"No, Torako's driving Jerome," Osaka said. She splayed her hands out as if physically presenting her point, and dropped her bag of niboshi in the process.

"You're so clumsy," Tomo said, as she bent down to pick up the packet for Osaka. As she bent down, she felt a sensation of a stiff breeze rub against her neck, and heard the shattering of the glass window behind her, shards landing on the concrete. The display of chips in front of the window exploded in a shower of corn crumbs, salt, and colorful foil packaging, the mess drifting downward like congratulatory confetti thrown from a food-processing factory.

Tomo barely had time to lift her head to see what was going on when Osaka rammed into her and knocked her on the ground behind the Hijet van, covering her with her body. The van rocked as multiple bullets tore into the side facing the street. One of Tomo's pork buns rolled away from the van's protective cover, and exploded as a bullet ripped through it.

"What's going on here?" Tomo shouted while pushing Osaka off of her, a slight twinge of guilt welling up that it was Osaka trying to protect her, when it should be the other way around.

"We gotta run!" Osaka shouted, grabbing Tomo's hand. Tomo scrambled to her feet, ducked her head, and followed Osaka to the curb store, the people inside already running toward the back exit. "They're shooting the wrong side!"

"How can you shoot the wrong side of a car?" Tomo shouted.

A deafening pop, like a massive sucking of air and blasting of heat, levitated the van. The explosion ripped a tire away from its bolts and shot it through the air, smashing through the store's window and plowing through a row of chocolate candy. The van windows shattered from the explosion, and the gasoline in the tank caught on fire and spread inside the van, billowing black smoke into the sky.

The explosion sucked the air from Tomo and Osaka's lungs and knocked them off of their feet, blasting them toward the door of the curb store. Osaka grabbed Tomo and twisted her body, shielding her from a hard landing. Osaka grunted as Tomo landed on top of her.

"Dammit Osaka, stop doing that!" Tomo shouted, barely hearing herself because of her ringing ears. She peeled Osaka away from her, confused how the traditionally non-athletic Osaka could demonstrate such lightning quick reflexes. "You're going to get yourself hurt!"

"Naw Tomo, I won't get hurt," Osaka shouted, struggling to get to her feet. "They aren't after me."

"That doesn't matter!"

The two pulled each other up and were about to open the door when the Challenger roared into the curb store parking lot, Torako's grim face yelling something incomprehensible over the burning van and ringing ears, leaning over to pop open the passenger side door.

Tomo and Osaka ran toward the car and dove into the passenger side, Torako jetting away so fast that the force shut the passenger door and knocked Osaka into the back seat. A bullet struck the trunk while its less well-aimed brethren hit the street, blasting up bits of concrete.

"Is everybody okay?" Torako shouted, her lips peeled back like a tiger baring her fangs.

"Yeah," Osaka said. "I think I am. To the best of my knowledge. Is there a checklist I need to mark off?"

"I'd be better if you had shown up sooner," Tomo said. "Always late."

"What's going on?" Torako said.

"Well," Tomo said, "I was hungry, so I made sure-"

"Idiot," Torako growled, cutting a tight turn, downshifting with a light touch of the Hurst shifter before upshifting again and smashing the pedal to the floor, the V8 Hemi engine obediently displacing seven liters. "I'm talking about the shooting. No way that's SAT."

Osaka pressed her face and hands against the back window, looking back at the billowing black cloud. "Oh no," Osaka said. "I can't believe that happened."

"Yeah," Tomo said, who was shaking like poorly made Jell-O despite her attempt at nonchalant smart-assery. "Sorry that had to happen to your van. At least we got out alive."

"Those poor niboshi," Osaka said.

"Buckle up," Torako said, and Osaka obediently turned around and strapped down. The faint wail of police sirens could be heard over the roaring engine.

"Bad time to talk, but I need to know," Torako said, as she headed for the highway to Tokyo. "What happened between Oda knocking you out, and you waking up at the beach house?"

"I don't know," Tomo said. "I guess they stripped my clothing - ugh - and put me in that bed."

"Tomo, don't freak out," Torako said, "but I dropped you off two days ago."

"I... I knew some time had passed," Tomo said. "I thought this was tomorrow..." Tomo trailed off as she gripped her head, the dizziness returning.

"You're going to freak out, aren't you?" Torako said, a look of worry on her face.

"I need to call my husband," Tomo said, pulling out Osaka's phone. The tones of the keypad were drowned out by the appearance of three siren-blaring police cars trailing behind.

...

**A/N**: This chapter and the next are "action chapters." I'm a bit worried with how they'll play out, since they're so completely different from Azumanga Daioh... but I figure you guys already knew that about this whole story, if you've read this far.

Also, I'm going to remove that stupid heroin dream from the previous chapter. That was actually the start of an April Fools chapter that I didn't finish in time. Basically, Tomo and Torako go to Torako's house, do drugs, overdose, and die. April Fools!

*ahem*

Yeah, it'll be removed and just start with Tomo waking up from a dream.


	17. Chapter 17

Hiro Tezuka walked through the office, luxuriating in the self-awareness that people were watching him, and if people weren't watching him, they knew he was there. He could feel stares both admiring and jealous, and he was fine with that- just as long as they watched him.

He was wearing his racing gear with the jacket unzipped, revealing his white sleeveless t-shirt, part of his chest hair dangerously exposed over the top of the t-shirt's low slung neckline. His badge hung on a black thread ending in an arrow, pointing to his well-developed abs.

"Evening ladies," he said to three of the underlings in his squad, all males. He wished just one of them would show guts enough to object to being called a lady, but all he received were stereotypically fraternal greetings, like boys on a high school sports team congratulating each other after a well fought victory. A smear of desperation was evident in their high fives and greetings to Hiro, like beta males trying to prove themselves equal to the alpha. Hiro was fine with that, too.

"Captain," Hiro's dispatching officer said, sitting at his desk. Hiro treated him more like a personal secretary, instead of the squad dispatch officer. "There's an incoming communication for you from Chiba City."

"Be right over," Hiro said. He walked over and grabbed the phone, watching the dispatch officer lean back in his chair. Hiro debated on kicking the chair over.

"This is Captain Hiro Tezuka," he said into the mic.

"Hiro! It's Abe."

"Abe!" It was Hiro's old partner. "What's the story?"

"Giving you a heads up," Abe said. "You got a monster coming your way."

"Spill it."

"A 1970 Dodge Challenger R/T. Hemi."

Hiro laughed. "Seriously? How did one of those end up here?"

"Brother, don't even ask me," Abe said. "It's heading toward your kingdom over there, and it gave us hell. Chiyoda plates, license number-"

"Lemme guess," Hiro said. "55-99."

Abe laughed. "That's right."

"Kowalski's car."

"Yeah, except they got the paint job wrong. It's as black as the devil's heart."

"Now what's this about it giving you hell?" Hiro said. "It's a classic, but it's forty years old."

"Brother, as far as I know, the body and engine are original, but everything else may as well be modified. I saw ceramic disk brakes, Z-rated tires, some kind of ram-air intake, I know I heard two turbochargers-"

"Damn."

"-yeah, I know. It's got some weird straight-through exhaust pipe I couldn't get a good look at, and brother? The way that thing took off from us when it hit the highway, I promise you, that bastard is pushing seven-hundred horsepower. I don't even want to guess the torque on that thing."

Hiro smiled in delight at the future of that marked car. He was going to take it down. "Abe? I like what you're telling me, but it doesn't sound possible. How is it able to maneuver with all that power and not sling that fat ass all over the place?"

"Listen, the Challenger isn't like the old muscle cars," Abe said. "It was already the most maneuverable of that lot. But on top of that, I bet you it's got some serious racing modifications. Shocks, struts, suspension, reinforced frame, whatever you want to deduce it having. And listen, the driver isn't some hopped-up weekend weenie, she knows what she's doing."

A premonition ticked at the edge of Hiro's consciousness. "She? Did you say she?"

"Yeah I said she, what of it? Two of my boys had that attitude when they went after her, and she made them look like idiots. It's overpowered when it comes to sharp corners, that's going to be its big weakness, but she knows how to handle it. If you can get that thing in the city, you can take it down, but the highway? Not a chance mister, not a chance. Surveillance got some pictures of it, and they're sending them your way."

"Thanks Abe, we'll get on it."

...

Abe, leaning on his squad car, the grill smashed into the engine bay, leaned through the window and put the mic back on its holder. "Jackass," he muttered to himself. He flagged down the rubbernecking cars so he could cross the street over to another police officer, standing by his overturned police interceptor, nursing a cut on his forehead with a bloody handkerchief. The third car, with a blown tire, had limped over to the sidewalk. That officer was currently directing traffic around the overturned interceptor while the three waited for the tow truck.

"Don't worry about it brother," Abe said, as he patted the wounded officer on the back. "Consider it a learning experience. You got many years yet of making mistakes."

"Yeah," the wounded officer said. He heard the whirling of helicopter blades and pointed to the sky. "There's the eye in the sky, tracking her now."

Abe shaded his eyes as he saw the black helicopter, and frowned. "That's not one of ours," he said. Two black vans rushed by, causing the wrecked patrol car to rock in the backlash. Abe watched them as they took the exit to the highway.

Abe frowned. "What is going here?"

...

Hiro waited for the color printer to finish its printing job. He grabbed the printed sheets, looked at the blurry pictures, and laughed out of sheer joy.

"Tiger! What brought you this low?" He faced the dispatcher. "Get me info on Torako von Wallenstein, Chiyoda ward, probably at the Kojimachi district. Get some stuff on her partner." Hiro snapped his fingers, trying to summon a memory hidden in the part of his brain labeled 'don't care'. "What's-her-name, the one they call the wildcat idiot. And get an I.D. on this silly looking mug sitting in the back." He tossed the pictures at the dispatcher. "Going to my office, patch me in to all the interceptors in the field."

Hiro swaggered to his office, chuckling to himself. "Today is going to be a grand day."

...

On the outskirts of where Chiba City melded into Narashino, a no-man's land of shifting community alliances and landmarks difficult to pinpoint, Torako drove the car into a service station while maintaining constant, nervous vigilance of any oncoming attackers.

Torako pushed her concentration and self-control hard, trying to prevent her body from relinquishing control to the rushing adrenaline. We aren't safe yet, she told herself. I can't rest.

It was with grim irritation that Torako decided she was the only one taking this seriously. Despite the skin-crawling circumstances of Tomo waking up in a strange place with a dead body, and then, joined by Osaka, running for their life, getting shot at, dodging an exploding van, and fleeing three patrol cars in a high-speed chase, Tomo and Osaka still acted as if it was all a game. Immediately after the chase, they talked about the word 'quagmire', riffed on limestone, and wondered if you could still call them tennis shoes if you never played tennis, and only wore them for walking.

A part of Torako admired their resilience, their insistence on living life by their own rules, and their refusal to allow other people (and even reality) to interfere with how they wanted to comport themselves. The other part of Torako wanted to strangle them.

"This place doesn't take cards, so we'll have to pay in cash," Torako said, reaching for her wallet.

"Well, that puts me out, because I lost my money," Tomo said.

"Wasn't asking you to pay," Torako said.

Osaka leaned forward. "You don't have to pay, Torako. There's money in the ashtray."

Tomo coughed, fake and loud, into her fist.

"I'll take care of it," Torako mumbled.

After Torako paid, she trotted back to the car ready to pump gas. She left the car idling in case the need for a quick getaway presented itself.

Tomo and Osaka were standing outside of the car. "I'll go make sure nothing's coming. Keep a watch out," Osaka said, making her way to the edge of the street.

Torako started pumping gas while Tomo leaned next to the car, watching Osaka. "So, Osaka," Tomo said. "What's her deal?"

"About what?"

"Yeah, act like you don't know," Tomo said with a smirk. "I know it's weird that she was at that surf hut, right when I needed help. That conversation you had with her when on her cell phone sure was mysterious, too."

"I was wondering if you noticed."

"Hey, I'm not stupid, okay? I was too busy trying to get away to think about the coincidence of it." Tomo purposely kept her expression neutral because she knew Torako was watching her. "I was woken up by a ringing phone. I think it was Osaka calling me from that surf hut. I saw a phone off the hook at the counter, when I grabbed her to take me out."

"Another mystery we don't need." Torako watched Osaka as she wandered along the edge of the street, occasionally glancing up into the sky. "I asked her to use her government contracts to find out where you were. I don't know why she didn't tell me she found you, or at least send in her own people to get you."

"Maybe she couldn't, and that's why she had to come herself," Tomo said.

"What I don't get is why they didn't kill you in the first place. It would've been the smart thing to do."

"What? That's cold, Torako!"

Torako maintained her masterful neutral expression. "Think about it. If they slit that poor girl's throat without a second thought, why didn't they do the same to you? Why waste time with SAT trying to hunt you down, or whatever those guys are?"

"Dunno," Tomo said. She cupped her chin in thought. "At first I thought they were trying to discredit me, getting me arrested for murder or something. Maybe I was supposed to be killed, but the lines of communication got crossed somehow. They found out, and sent those guys to finish me off."

"Only one way to find out," Torako said. She looked down at Tomo and smiled just enough to show her fangs, while a yellow gleam entered her eyes. "We ask Oda Otomo and Aya Suzuki ourselves."

"Ha!" Tomo said, thrusting a fist in the air. "You going to 'improvise' on them?"

"I'm going to improvise all over the place." Torako patted the car guzzling gasoline. "We drive this thing straight through those double glass doors and park it in the lobby. We get out with weapons drawn, and proceed to interrogate the hell out of them."

Tomo squealed with glee. "I can't wait!"

"Need to drop off Osaka first," Torako said. "Listen, I talked with her openly when we realized you had disappeared. I told her what the chief told you, about the circumstances of her disappearance and her arrival. She did the whole "security risk" dance. Kind of pissed me off."

"Well, that's not her fault."

Torako made a gesture between a shrug and a nod. "Still pissed me off. I'm glad she did find you after all, although the circumstances are... unusual. Anyway, I was just telling her she didn't have to fear us or hide things from us. We're cops, we can take it. I hate she has to pretend she has no idea what she's doing."

Tomo snickered. "She doesn't have any idea what she's doing in the first place."

"I don't know," Torako said. "Sometimes I think she's trying too hard to come across that way. Girl's got a hidden intelligence."

"It's hidden because it isn't there at all."

Torako watched Osaka pace next to the street, a soldier keeping her sentry. "You need to pay a little more attention to her. You'll be surprised."

Torako felt the burning of one of Tomo's patented stares, and she didn't like it. She glanced down at her and saw a laser-sharp leer of scorn and bemusement.

"Ohhh, I get it," Tomo said, crossing her arms. "You think Osaka's one of those secret philosopher types, don't you?" Tomo made not just her mouth frown, but her entire face, her forehead like a ridge swooping over her eyes. "Look at me, roar, I'm all smarter than poor little Tomo," she said, deepening her voice to the point of idiocy, as if she was going to ask about the rabbits at any moment. "Seein' all deep into folks souls and whatnot, growl growl."

"I don't sound like that," Torako said, her lips curling into a tired grimace.

Tomo made a clumsy and broken pirouette, like a plumber with bad knees imitating his idea of a ballerina. "Why can't people see my brilliant insights," she continued in the same voice. "Shootin' guns and drivin' cars proves I'm superior to everybody else."

"Knock it off."

"Awww," Tomo said, this time in her own voice. She rested her chin on her two fists and made deep, starry Bambi eyes at Torako. She leaned her head on Torako's shoulder. "Do I make you angry?"

"You make me pity you," Torako said, jerking her shoulder out from under Tomo's head. "On how you have to project your own shortcomings onto others."

Tomo's intended response was interrupted by Osaka running at them at full speed, waving her arms in the air. The pump clicked off just in time, and Torako slapped it back on the handle.

"Airybirds!" Osaka shouted. "They're coming!"

"What?" Tomo said, while Torako twisted the cap back on.

"Airybirds! You know, heuydewies!" Osaka raised a finger in the air and slung it around in a circle. "Chop chop chop chop-"

"Oh!" Tomo said. "You mean helicopters!"

"Yeah, tarpots! That's what I said!"

"Tar pots? What do tar pots have to do with-"

"Shut up and get in the car!" Torako shouted from the driver's seat, thinking; definitely strangle them.

...

Standing up in his office with his door open, Hiro held a mic to his mouth and addressed his men out in the field.

"Alright ladies, listen up," he said. "I had dispatch send you guys the info, and we are in for a fight. Torako von Wallenstein, the Tiger herself, on the run from the law in a drastically modified 1970 Dodge Challenger R/T. Left a crime scene there, a burning van at a curb store. She gave those boys over in Chiba City hell, and now she's aiming to do the same to us.

"You guys remember the Tiger, used to be one of us before she was transferred to the Investigation Bureau to babysit Tomo Takino, the well-known Wildcat Idiot, who happens to be the front seat passenger. We can't get an ID on the passenger in the back, but she doesn't matter. She's not driving.

"Now listen, this model has a spirit to it, a life force, like the Ferrari 250 GTO, or the Lancia Stratos, or the Toyota Trueno. It surpasses its own specs in the hands of a master driver, which we all know the Tiger to be. I know you guys scoff and make fun of me behind my back about saying cars have life forces, but that's why you are all scrubs, and I'm the best driver in the Japanese police force, understand?

"I'm giving you guys three options. The first option is to get her off the highway and PIT her, and you better make damn sure it's the most perfect PIT maneuver you've ever done, because that's fifteen-hundred kilograms of Detroit steel and she will peel through your car like it was a ripe grape. The second option is to wear her out until she runs out of gas, and it will run out in record time. The third option is me putting a boot up your collective asses for failing to capture her.

"You guys know your positions, make it there by the ETA or I'm busting you back to driving school. I'm dead serious here. The pride of the Tokyo Metropolitan Traffic Bureau, Interceptor Squad, depends on bringing her down. Any means necessary. Out."

Hiro tossed the mic over his shoulder, zipped up his jacket, and left his private office.

"I'm taking the NSX," he said to dispatch officer, still leaning back in his chair.

"Certainly," the dispatch officer said. "It's in garage two."

"I mean the Super GT."

The leg of the chair slipped, and the dispatch officer fell backwards, sprawling across the floor. Hiro laughed, mocking and derisive, feeling joy that he had participated in knocking him down.

The dispatch officer, turning red and glaring at the floor, got to his feet and rubbed his head. "I'm going to have to get that cleared with the chief superintendent."

"Then clear it," Hiro said. "I'm taking it."

...

Hiro knew the grumbling welling up underneath him from most of his inferiors - confusion over the prejudice involved in taking down a fellow officer, his insistence on tying up the entire interceptor force for just one car - but he didn't care. It was time to right past wrongs, and he was not going to be stopped by mere propriety.

He sat down in his NSX Super GT and put on his driving gloves and head set, eschewing his driving helmet because he wanted a clear view of the road, and because it wasn't cool. His cars (his main patrol car was a Twin Turbo Supra) were the only ones in the police force that had a six speaker stereo system with a subwoofer (two tens) in the front. His mechanic assured him that the low pressure wouldn't rattle the car or impede performance.

He started his car, and after the initial roar of waking to life, the car purred in delight. Hiro attached his MP3 player and began developing a playlist for today's takedown. Autechre's _rale_, which he had played for some rain-slicked night cruising through Shinjuku, came over the speakers.

He made his playlist, leaning heavily toward that harsh and violent subgenre whose main practitioners were Aphex Twin, Squarepusher, and Venetian Snares. However, he ended the playlist with Boards of Canada's _Dawn Chorus_. This was to be no mere victory song, but a note of transcendence. It would be musical proof that he had not just surpassed his enemy, but himself.

He drove the car out into the sunny street, pedestrians stopping and staring at a racecar garnished with police lights and introduced by the booming bass of Lone's _Fly Fire Rainbow_, a cool and breezy song for a cool and breezy guy.

"I am the best driver in the world," he said, with no self-knowing smirk or sense of irony, visualizing himself already the victor in the upcoming battle. "I am the best driver in the world with the best car in the world. I will win all of my races, personal and private. I am the best driver in the world."

He repeated his mantra. The NSX purred in response as they drove to their destination.

...

Osaka was the first to see it.

"Ooh look," she said, pointing to a car in the opposite bound lane. "It's all neat lookin'."

Torako saw the car, and let escape a litany of profanity so powerful, that had it been a magic spell, it would've taken physical form, traveled back in time, and set fire to the Hays office.

Tomo's jaw dropped. "Wow, Torako," she said. "That just about melted my face."

"Shoulda closed your eyes," Osaka said.

In lieu of an explanation, Torako jerked the steering wheel toward the next upcoming exit. At the bottom she saw two police cars, lights flashing, blocking her path. She jerked her steering wheel back to the highway.

"Shit," she said, slapping her steering wheel. "Shit! We're trapped."

"What's going on?" Tomo said.

Torako began slowing the car down, and the police radio, which she salvaged from the late Civic, began beeping with a new call. She could hear the dreaded car behind her.

"Why are we slowing down?"

"Got to find a way to stay out of Tokyo."

"What? We're trying to get there!"

Cars beeped their horns and passed their car. One car pulled up to it. The red and white NSX Super GT. Torako did not look at it.

"Who's that guy?" Osaka said.

Torako gritted her teeth, and grabbed the beeping police radio.

"Torako speaking."

Hiro's voice came over the radio. "Hey Thin Lezzie! Satan called, he wants his car back."

"Satan drives Volkswagens," Torako said, hiding her anger at being called Thin Lezzie. "What do you want, Spanky? This isn't your jurisdiction."

"Oh, I was just out taking a drive," Hiro said, hiding his anger at being called Spanky. "You got quite a crime spree going there. Exploding vans, evading police, even flipping a squad car over. Nice."

"Listen, Hiro," Torako said, "we're involved in something really big right now, and we don't need you interfering with us. We're cops, remember? Don't ask me to explain it over the radio, but I'm begging you to let us go as a personal favor."

Hiro laughed. "Personal favor? What favor do I owe you? You pass up being captain to babysit that brat?"

"Who's he talking about?" Tomo said. "Did you have a child, Torako?"

"Maybe he means bratwurst," Osaka said.

"I can't explain to you the embarrassment of being called second best, and being given the prize like I was to be pitied," Hiro said. "I had to constantly prove that I was worthy of being captain of the Interceptor Squad, even though everyone considered you better than me. I know how Karpov felt, when they gave him the world champion title when Fischer wouldn't play him. It embarrassed him not to have won it in a fair fight, over the board. He had to constantly prove himself worthy of the title of chess world champion, but he never got the chance I have now."

"What's this guy's problem?" Tomo said.

Torako covered the mic. "He grew up in Los Angeles."

"That explains it," Tomo said.

"I'm not a leader," Torako said into the mic. "You know that."

"Doesn't matter," Hiro said. "You hit Tokyo, and I'm after you. It's a kilometer away now. My domain."

Torako pressed the brake and slowed the car to a halt, just meters in front of the Welcome to Tokyo sign. The NSX did the same, and they could hear Hiro barking instructions over the radio. The police lights lit up in his NSX, and several squad cars behind them spread across the highway, their lights on, preventing cars from passing them. The cars ahead continued on, leaving clear empty highway ahead. The cars in the opposite lane slowed down and stared at the spectacle.

"What are you doing, Torako? You going to get out and walk? The three of you? Add highway abandonment to your list of misdeeds?"

"I might," Torako said.

"You really hate me that much," Hiro said. "Well, try it. I can't arrest you, but I can hold you at gunpoint while I wait for the cops here to come pick you up."

Tomo grabbed the mic from Torako. "What are we in trouble for? We're just doing our job! You're the one slowing us down!"

Hiro laughed. "Something came over the wire while I was headed over to meet you guys," Hiro said. "Tomo Takino, right? You're wanted for the murder of Miruchi Inoue. You cut her throat after a night of wild passion."

"That's a lie!" Tomo shouted.

"I wonder what your husband will think when he finds out about it."

"He'd say you're ugly and you smell bad!"

Torako swiped the mic away from Tomo. "She's my prisoner," Torako said, watching Tomo shake with rage. "She gave herself up. We're escorting her to the Kojimachi district police headquarters. We request an escort."

Hiro laughed. "Nice gambit. But the report was filed in Kujukuri, so you guys are going the wrong way."

"She requested delivery to her old headquarters," Torako growled. "You can clear it with the chief." Torako was positive the chief would be quick thinking enough to verify her wild claim.

"I'm not calling chief Akiyama," Hiro said. "You know he's on the outs, right? That's the rumor. Too many favors, pulled in too fast. Something about covering up for two of his underlings? Wonder who those could be. On a related note, what's this I hear about Section One being after you guys?"

Torako was stunned into speechlessness while Tomo slapped the dashboard. "That was Section One? I thought it was SAT!"

"What do you mean?" Torako said, when she regained her powers of speech.

"They tried to grab her at the beach house," Hiro said. "Two black vans are behind me now. I had my men clear a path for 'em. They should be showing up in, oh, two minutes?"

"Hiro, listen to me," Torako said. "This isn't a private channel, but I don't care. If Section One gets here, they will kill Tomo. Do you understand? Kill her."

"Well, that's their business," Hiro said.

Tomo grabbed the mic. "You heartless jerk!" she shouted. Hiro laughed.

"What's it going to be, Thin Lezzie?"

"We surrender," Torako said, savagely. "We're your prisoners until the Narashino cops come to pick us up." Torako was confident her writ ex nihilo would set them free.

"I changed my mind. I'll let Section One pick you up instead." Hiro chuckled. "You aren't getting out of this. Man up and face me."

Torako slammed the mic in the holder. She turned to Tomo and said, "Give me my driving gloves."

Tomo popped open the glove compartment and grabbed Torako's black leather driving gloves. "What do you need these for?" Tomo said, giving them to Torako. "You drive just fine without them. I mean, just as bad."

"It's for psychological reasons," Osaka said.

"Like you know anything about that," Tomo said.

Torako put on her gloves, put one hand on the shifter and the other on the wheel.

"That's the girl!" Hiro said over the radio. He started his playlist, the opening of Squarepusher's _Ez Boogie_ belying its eventual rhythm of angry exploding bubbles and scattershot drumming. Both hands were on his wheel, fingers ready to click the shifting paddles. I am the best driver in the world with the best car in the world...

"What's all that racket?" Tomo said, looking at the NSX. "It sounds like his car has intestinal problems."

"It's his lame techno," Torako said. She turned her head to face Tomo and Osaka, and, surprising both, smiled, sisterly and affectionate. "Well, what's our motto?"

"Tomo rules, Hiro drools!" Tomo shouted, using loudmouthed braggadocio to cover up her blushing at Torako's smile.

"No one with a good car needs to be justified," Osaka drawled.

"I like that one," Torako said. She shifted into first, slamming the pedal to the ground.

The Challenger roared and surged forward. The eight pistons churned in their oversized cylinders, igniting fuel, each explosion a big bang in miniature, beginning, creating, expanding, contracting, all in the time it takes to blink, an engine of creation and destruction at seven-thousand revolutions per minute, the holy temple of MOPARs simple design ethic; not comfort, not precision, not styling, but raw, brutal, savage power.

Hiro correctly guessed Torako's starting time, and the NSX blasted off. The NSX surged forward, the engine singing its hymn of joy, each piece and part contributing to their well-conducted symphony of automotive excellence. I am the best driver in the world...

Hiro watched as the Challenger blasted away from him. "Make that eight-hundred horsepower," he said.

"We're winning!" Tomo shouted over the engine, struggling against the G force to turn around. "We're faster than him!"

"Not for long," Torako shouted. "We're hitting speeds where aerodynamics take over. He's in a F-22, we're in a brick." The speedometer ticked one-hundred and twenty MPH, and the Super GT was no longer losing distance.

Osaka twisted her body and watched the Super GT. "Suzanne's gaining!" she shouted.

"Gah!" Tomo shouted. "Do something!"

"Calm down and let me drive!" Torako shouted. The rear view mirror showed Osaka moving her lips, but no one could hear her.

The concrete highway snaked underneath them, the dividing lines melding into one long white streak. Buildings blurred together like watercolor smeared on paper. Torako squinted, and far down the highway, saw a light piercing through a hazy gap. She couldn't see any definite shape forming from the brightly lit haze, but she knew it was something to be avoided.

She jerked the wheel and exited the highway, flying down the ramp. Two police cars were at the bottom, lights flashing, officers out and guns drawn.

"Torako!" Tomo shouted. "What are you doing!"

Torako executed a heel-and-toe downshifting maneuver and jerked the wheel. The Challenger snarled and hit the grassy embankment, flowing downhill until it hit the street below. The tires squealed and the car blasted down the street.

"Move!" Hiro shouted into his headset as he raced down the exit. He stopped at the two police cars as the officers scrambled to get out of his way. He wasn't going to risk damaging his high-strung car by driving down the embankment. "Get the bulldozers off the highway, she didn't fall for it. Where's my eye in the sky?"

"We can't get permission to launch, sir," the dispatcher said.

"Whaddya mean we can't get permission?" Hiro said, as he maneuvered the car through the gap created by the hastily departing officers. The NSX chirped and sped down the street, pursuing its quarry.

"Section One has their own copter in the air," the dispatcher said. "We don't have clearance."

"Well tell them to give us directions!" Hiro shouted. "They're ruining my plan!"

...

Torako moved the car quickly through the street, dodging slow moving vehicles, wowing pedestrians with her expert control at such high speeds. She had taken on a fierce countenance now, her lips curling back into a snarl. Tomo had dug out the GPS from the glove compartment and was barking directions at Torako on how to get back to the highway.

Each attempt at entering the highway was cut off by the sudden appearance of a police interceptor. Hiro had the exits well covered, and now two Lancers, lights flashing and sirens blaring, were closing on the soul heroines in their soul mobile. They parted and allowed Hiro to drive through the gap, leading the chase.

"Torako!" Tomo shouted, as Torako executed a particularly close turn into a street, the rear of the Challenger clipping a mailbox, bursting it open in a shower of envelopes, knocking it into the nearby building. "Gimme your gun!"

"No!" Torako shouted. "They're cops! Don't you dare shoot at them!"

"I'm just going to shoot their tires!" Tomo shouted. She lunged into Torako's jacket and pulled out her Sig P250. She grabbed the window latch and rotated it, the window rolling down.

Torako maintained brilliant calm while driving the car at such high speeds through a public street, but seeing Tomo with a gun, and an intent to use it, made her stomach rebel against the rest of her body. "Don't you dare shoot that!" Torako shouted. "Osaka! Get it away from her!"

Tomo stuck her head out of the window and pointed the gun at the sky. She fired, ten times, spent brass launching out and clinking on the street like lost coins. Pedestrians screamed and hit the pavement.

"What are you shooting!"

Four birds fell out of the sky and landed onto the ground below, one smashing the windshield of a parked car.

"Ah ha ha! Stupid birds!" Tomo shouted, shaking her fist at the avian murder behind her. "I told you I'd get back at you!"

Torako hit a bump, and Tomo lost ownership of her gun. It landed in the back seat, next to Osaka.

"Ooh, let me try," Osaka said. She unbuckled her seatbelt, picked up the gun, and leaned back into Tomo's seat, facing the two cars chasing behind her. She stuck her wrist out of the window, bending it at a sharp angle, not even seeing how the gun was aimed.

...

The ten gunshots into the air made Hiro angry, and he was seriously debating on PITing Torako now, despite the crowded street and danger to pedestrians. He saw the girl in the backseat unbuckle her belt and turn around, leaning against Takino's seat. She looked out of the rear window, and her and Hiro's eyes met. He wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline, or a trick of the light, but Hiro could've sworn all the way to his deathbed that the girl winked at him.

"What the hell?"

She stuck the gun out of the window at an unnatural angle, aimed straight at his car.

"Evade!" Hiro shouted, and he jerked the wheel. The Super GT squealed and hopped onto the mercifully empty sidewalk.

...

"Don't!" Torako shouted.

Osaka pulled the trigger twice. The front right tire of the interceptor on her right exploded, and the front left tire of the interceptor to her left exploded nearly simultaneously. The blowout caused the two interceptors to smash into each other, the sick sound of grinding metal and shattering glass heard even over the roar of the engine and through the distance as the Challenger rocketed away.

...

"Get an ID on the woman in the backseat now!" Hiro shouted, not hiding the amazement in his voice. He navigated the Super GT back onto the street. "How did she do that?"

...

"How did you do that?" Tomo said, her eyes widening in awe at Osaka's aim.

"How did I do that?" Osaka said, cocking her head to the side to observe the pistol. She turned it around and peered into the barrel.

"Tomo! Get it away from her, now!" Torako shouted, knowing in her sinking heart that actually having to ask Tomo to take a gun was proof at how the situation had gone horribly wrong. Tomo reached into the backseat and grabbed the pistol, removing it from Osaka's hand.

"Put the safety on!"

"Come on Torako, the clip only holds twelve bullets, right? It's all spent!"

"Put. The safety. On!"

"Torako, it's empty! See?" Tomo pulled the trigger. The gun fired a bullet into the police radio, which exploded into a shower of sparks and broken plastic. Tomo screamed while Torako cringed.

Comprehension flooded Tomo's face. "Ohh, there was one in the chamber!"

Torako groaned out of sheer frustration.

Osaka leaned toward Torako. "Torako, I saw a waveyblade when I turned around," she said.

"Oh now you're just making names up!" Tomo shouted.

"Thanks!" Torako said, as she glanced into her rearview mirror, searching for the helicopter. She saw it, all black. Section One. The side door to the copter opened, and a man lowered a-

"Duck!" Torako shouted, and she jerked the wheel to the left. The right side view mirror disintegrated as the bullet plowed through it. Tomo instinctively covered her head and jerked back, letting out a yelp.

"Oh no!" Osaka shouted. "They shot off Jerome's ear!"

...

"Dispatch! Info!"

"Radio silence," dispatch said. "Section One are no longer answering my calls."

"What did you do, Torako?" Hiro muttered to himself.

...

Torako shouted to Tomo to call Chief Akiyama, and put the situation to him as succinctly as possible. Tomo's "We're getting shot at, help!" was too succinct, and the chief required more information.

"Get over here, now!" The chief said. "I can't handle the Interceptor Squad, but I can handle Section One!"

"Shouldn't that be the other way around?" Tomo said.

"Just trust me," the chief said, and he hung up his phone.

The chief, in the peaceful stillness of his office, closed his eyes, and kept his hand on the handle of the phone. He let out a long, low, exhalation, and picked up the phone, holding it to his ear. Opening his eyes, he slowly and deliberately punched in a number. Eventually, the person on the other end answered.

"This is Saneyuki Akiyama of the Kojimachi district," the chief said. "I need to speak to the Grand Steward of the Imperial Household Agency." He swallowed, looking into a distance far beyond the walls of his office, into a past he hated and a future he dreaded. "I need a favor."

...

They entered Chiyoda. In an empty street, with minimal danger to pedestrians, and normal danger to property, Hiro began his PIT maneuver and tapped the Challenger.

It felt wrong. Despite the police reinforced grill and bumper of his Super GT, he felt as if he had tapped a brick wall.

Torako felt the tap. She was ready to correct the Challenger's course, but the tap didn't even knock it off balance.

"What is going on here?" she said.

Osaka leaned forward. "We might be too heavy for him," Osaka said. "This car weighs two thousand kilograms."

"What? Why so heavy?"

"Well, the frame and bumpers are made out of railroad steel," she said. "I think it was something like 70 kg/m steel or something like that there."

"Oh," Torako said. She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the Super GT approaching the car for another attack. "Why didn't you say so? Everybody brace yourselves!" When Tomo and Osaka took crash positions, Torako smashed the brake pedal and pulled the parking brake.

...

Hiro didn't have time to move out of the way.

The Super GT plowed into the rear of the Challenger. The black car's rear lights shattered, but the trunk barely buckled. The front of the Super GT caved in like an accordion and pushed the sub-woofer into the driving compartment. Hiro used the split-second he had to feel grateful that the engine was behind him.

The Super GT became airborne. It flipped lengthwise over the Challenger and sailed ahead, landing on the street, flipping over and over, slinging metal and glass across the street. A side panel ripped off and rocketed away, planting itself through a second story window.

The car, on its top, slid to a halt.

"No way!" Tomo shouted. "Did you see that? No way!"

"Poor Suzanne," Osaka said. "The plans we made put an end to you."

Torako released the parking brake and puttered to the overturned car. "Stay right here," she said. She unbuckled her seatbelt and jumped out of the car.

Hiro crawled out from the open window, blood pouring from his busted lip. He staggered to his feet and faced Torako.

"Hiro," she said. "You're still walking, so that's good. Any major injuries?"

"I-I don't think so," he said.

"Make sure, okay? Anything broken? Back pain, neck pain?"

Hiro flexed his fingers and toes, and made sure his limbs could move. "I'm good," he said. "Real lucky. Just cuts and bruises."

"No concussions?"

"No concussions," he said, grinning.

"Good," Torako said, and she punched him in the jaw.

"Yeah!" Tomo shouted, sticking her head out of the window. "Beat him down!"

Osaka squirmed through the window, pushing Tomo out of the way. "Yeah, hit him with your wooden leg!"

"You dummy!" Tomo said, pushing Osaka away. "She doesn't have a wooden leg!"

"Oh? But I thought-"

Torako silenced them both with a withering stare.

She turned her attention back to Hiro, who was clutching his jaw. "You stupid arrogant bastard!" she roared. "How dare you put our lives in danger because of your stupid vendetta." She stared at him as he rubbed his jaw. Feeling that nothing she said would get through to him, she walked back toward her car. "And call me Torako, or don't call me at all."

"Torako," he said, pain in his voice.

Torako turned around. "Yeah?"

"Marry me."

Torako lunged forward and punched him again, this time knocking him on the ground.

"Stop hitting me!" He shouted. "What's wrong with you? I'm serious, okay?" He scooted backwards along the ground to get away from Torako, who was marching toward him with hands clenched into fists. "I made a mistake. I'm sorry."

"You're not sorry," Torako said. "You haven't changed your behavior."

Hiro held up two placating hands, trying to ward off the angry tiger in front of him. "I am sorry. I shouldn't have treated you like that, when you went away. That was stupid of me. I'm sincere."

"Words," Torako said. "But either way, it's too late for us. I'm over it." She turned around and walked back toward the Challenger. She put a hand on the Super GT's corpse, and patted it. "Learn some humility," she said.

As she approached the Challenger, Osaka and even Tomo looking concerned, her body realized the fight was over. She relinquished control to her nerves and hormones, and her body began shaking, her stomach turning over and over. She felt her legs turn into noodles.

"Osaka," she rasped. "I need you to drive. I can't."

"Okay Torako," Osaka said, as she pushed the driver side seat down and stepped out. Torako dropped the keys in Osaka's hand, and crawled into the backseat.

"You okay?" Tomo said.

Torako lay down, facing the back seat, and curled up. "Need to rest. Can't drive anymore."

"Anymore?" Tomo said. Torako didn't answer.

Osaka hopped in, sticking the key in the ignition and starting the car. "Okay Jerome, let's get going," she said, patting the dashboard. They headed toward their headquarters.

...

**A/N: **Both cars would have to be made out of magic to do the things they did. Apologies to any true gearheads out there reading this.


	18. Chapter 18

Tomo could not get over Osaka driving a stick shift. It was normal to expect this spacey woman to be unable to drive manual (or drive at all), but her easy way of pressing the clutch with her toe and leading the Hurst shifter with her fingertips made Tomo uneasy. There was a sense of unfairness about it, that Osaka could drive and she couldn't, but ignoring even that, it just wasn't natural. In Tomo's mind, Osaka should've been flailing around, trying to interpret the hieroglyphics of the mysterious three pedals under her feet and struggling to deduce the mystery of the metal stick growing from the floor. Instead, she treated them as something completely normal.

Tomo didn't say anything about it because she was worried about jinxing Osaka's driving. She sat on her hands, as if this gesture was a physical ward against uttering her curse, namely, "How do you even know how to drive?"

Tomo also kept silent because of Torako. She was still curled up in the back, face against the seat, neither speaking nor moving. She looked fragile to Tomo, and this made Tomo uncomfortable. She would never tell Torako this (and would threaten a grotesque and horrifying death to whoever found out), but she admired Torako. Torako, in a peculiar sense, was her hero. She was tough, strong, and cool even, if not a little weird. Seeing her in this entropic state, spent like a dead star, was unnerving.

Osaka rolled into the headquarters' parking lot.

"Whoa, look at those people," Osaka said.

"Ugh, reporters," Tomo said. "How'd they find out so fast?"

A throng of reporters brandishing cameras and microphones stood outside the entrance to the building. While she didn't hear anything, Tomo was sure the chief banned comments to the media.

Tomo was going to suggest that Osaka park down the street, so they could sneak in, but she saw Rico standing next to the entrance.

"I'm getting out!" Tomo said, unbuckling her belt and opening the door, not giving Osaka time to stop the car. She ran toward Rico and vaulted into his open arms, as microphones and cameras crowded around.

...

The office was overrun with noise and activity, edged with nervousness. All were aware of the last ninety minutes, from Tomo waking up in a beach house to the three pulling into the parking lot in their battle-damaged chariot. Chief Akiyama explained the false suspension of Tomo and Torako to the police officers in the building, and revealed the existence of their writ ex nihilo. He explained what Torako told him over the radio while she was on the way to meet Tomo and Osaka at a curb store in Chiba City, about Tomo seeing Oda Otomo and losing consciousness in his office, possibly due to a drug put in her tea. He did not hide Oda Otomo's name from his explanations, or crouch it in innuendo. He spoke it openly like a curse.

The news spread, from phone and radio, to the entire ward, and from the ward, to the city. The other members of Tomo and Torako's peculiar and semi-secret police group, what Tomo called The Seven-Ups, heard the news concerning the trio's escapade. Ken, in the narcotic hellhole of Roppongi, made a terrible pun about beaches and politicians before licking cocaine off the sleeve of his teal Armani suit. The disheveled Wolf, in gangster-infested Shinjuku, paused long enough in his pummeling of a snotty gangster to glare at his partner delivering the news before continuing his beatdown of the now sobbing thug. Ryuhime, gazing out over the naked trees of the chilly autumn day from the second floor bedroom window, took a sip of sencha from a three-hundred year old porcelain cup, dropped it on the rug, and attached a car battery to the businessman screaming into the black garbage bag tied around his head. They didn't consciously think the words, but their inner feelings couldn't be disguised; bad things are going to happen. One of their own, a manic wildcat detective accused of murder, in turn accuses a charismatic and gifted young politician of framing her. This would get out into the other world - the world of civilians - and it would be big. It did not look good for their fellow officer.

Osaka and Torako entered the main office, police officers crowding around her, asking her if she was okay, and what was going to be done. Even Osaka had developed a fanbase, as policemen expressed their astonishment at her miraculous shooting ability. Tomo, Rico with her, was relating her story to her workmates.

Chief Akiyama, arms folded, leaned against a desk and studied the floor. He had moved into that position since delivering the news of Tomo and Torako's secret case, and hadn't spoken since.

"Chief," Torako said. "Thanks for getting Section One off of us."

"Fair warning. I'm not going to be able to watch your back much longer."

"I heard something about too many favors," Torako said. "Sorry you had to use them up on us."

"Not what I mean," the chief said. He looked away, a frown deepening on his craggy face. "I'm getting retired."

Torako raised an eyebrow. "You're retiring?"

"No," he said, turning to face her. "I'm getting retired."

Before Torako could respond, the chief made himself upright and clapped his hands. "Alright, break up the party," he said. "Takino's got a murder charge against her, and we got to act fast."

"A moment chief," Kazumi Kondo said. She strode to the middle of the office, her heels clicking into the tile floor. "I feel I must play devil's advocate here. With all due respect to Ms. Takino, how do we know she didn't commit the murder?"

Boos and insults assaulted Kazumi, and she held up her hands to block the balls of crumbled paper thrown at her. She dodged a stapler, which exploded into bits of metal shrapnel when it bounced against the floor, and a pair of scissors before backing down.

"Never mind, just thought I'd ask," she grumbled.

"Okay," the chief said. "Now that we got that out of the way, what next?"

"We need to t-talk to Mr. Otomo." Megane said, pushing his glasses up with his index finger. "He d-doesn't want a confrontation, and we d-don't want a confrontation. Perhaps we c-can work something out."

"No," Torako said. The need to light a cigarette was overpowering now, and she pulled one out of her pack. The office was officially a no-smoking zone, but if these people didn't like it, they'd just have to move out of the way. She barely had time to pull out her Zippo when three officers leaned forward with their own lighters, igniting her cigarette for her.

"The whole problem is we've been civil and respectful to idiots and assholes," Torako said. "This is behavior they neither respect nor understand. We tried doing this the proper way, and what did that get us? A murder rap and a trail of destruction. What we need to do is to communicate on their level. What we need to do is to pay a visit to the offices of Mr. Otomo, and apply liberal amounts of gratuitous and random violence."

"Yeah!" Tomo said, thrusting a fist in the air. "Let's cut off their legs with chainsaws and mock their stumps!"

"Not that gratuitous."

"Yeah," Osaka drawled. "Let's make a bagpipe weapon that sprays a fine mist of diarrhea."

"Not that random," Torako said. She shook her head. "I just made a kickass speech, and you guys are undermining it."

"Whoops, sorry about that," Osaka said.

"Ha! Well I'm not sorry," Tomo said. "You aren't cool enough to make kickass speeches, only I am." She got out from under Rico's arm and took the middle of the floor. Tomo cleared her throat. "Friends, Romans, countrymen! Lend me your ears! I come not to bury Oda-"

"Shut up Takino," the chief said. He looked at Rico to see if he was in the clear for telling Tomo to shut up, but Rico was nodding his head. This action received a punch in the gut from Tomo.

"Stub out that cigarette and tell us what you got planned, but without the macho speech mannerisms," chief Akiyama said. "You sound like a Hollywood movie."

Torako took a giant drag before stubbing out the cigarette into the palm of her hand. She flicked the butt into a trashcan.

"We gear up and pay the offices of Oda Otomo a visit," she said. "All of us. Tomo says she was drugged, so we get some sniffer dogs and see what that gets us."

"Yeah, Monsieur Chien," Tomo said.

"He's still recuperating," Torako said. "We'll use beagles."

"Alright," the chief said. "Torako, get a team, I'd say seven members. Take Tomo and Kazumi with you. Kazumi, call Mr. Ichiro and have him deliver whatever sniffers he can get us. Don't gear up, just go in with what you're wearing. I got a judge to call to get a warrant. Get to it. Everyone back to work."

The group dispersed while he walked over to Osaka. Her eyes were glazed over, and had been ever since she mentioned bagpipes that spray diarrhea.

"Ms. Kasuga?" the chief said.

Osaka made splashdown and looked at the chief. "Who's that oh that's me," she said, correcting herself in one sentence.

"Thanks for your help. We're sorry about the destruction of your van. I'll contact a lawyer if you need one."

"Oh, that's okay Mr. Chief," Osaka said. "I got some folks that'll help me out with that."

"I see," the chief said, his statement phrased with secret significance.

The chief asked Osaka if she needed anything else, such as a ride home, or for the ward police mechanic shop to fix her car, but Osaka said the car needed specialized work done on it, for reasons she couldn't explain even if she knew what they were. She said her goodbyes to Torako, Tomo, and Rico before leaving.

Torako decided she had put off her dread task long enough, and approached Tomo, who was busy antagonizing her husband.

"Rico," Torako said, "you mind if I borrow your wife for a moment?"

"Be my guest," Rico said. "I have to get back to work anyway."

"Get back to work? You mean you didn't get the day off to be with me, after my kidnapping?" Tomo jabbed his chest with her index finger. "What kind of good for nothing husband are you?"

"Come on Tomo! You know how my boss is. I had to beg to get this time off," he said, sheepishly scratching his head. "Besides, I don't see you getting the day off."

"Hah, yeah, try and deflect my justified criticism," Tomo said. "Always blaming other people for your wrongdoings."

"I really need you to come with me," Torako said.

"Yeah yeah, just a minute," Tomo said. Torako averted her eyes while Tomo and Rico made their goodbyes.

...

"So what do you got, Torako? Need help organizing a strike team? I'm glad to see you acknowledged my superior organizational skills."

Tomo was following Torako down the antiseptic hallway, the overly lit fluorescent lights reflecting on the polished and waxed tile floor below. Despite the floor's shine, each corner had a pile of dust, piled up from decades of people tromping down the hall. No janitor had ever seemed bothered to clean it up, or even realizing the contradiction of shiny floors and dirty corners.

"We're not making a strike team," Torako said. "You know that. It's a simple interview and search. Anyway, we're going to forensics."

"Forensics? What's in that? And if you say laboratory items, you are so going down."

Torako stopped walking and faced Tomo, mentally preparing herself for the barrage of complaints and insults for what she was going to say. Sometimes, it seemed, looking out for your friends was more work that it was worth... or, in Torako's case, one specific friend.

"I ordered a rape test to be done on you."

"What?" Tomo shouted, her hair nearly standing on end. "I don't need a rape test! What's wrong with you? Pervert!"

"You were gone for two days," Torako said. "You don't remember anything that happened. We need to do this to make sure."

"What's this 'we' business? I don't need a test done! I know I wasn't raped or had sex or whatever!"

"How can you really know that?"

"I can just tell!" Tomo said. She put her hands on her hips and thrust her angry face toward Torako. "Of course, you would ask that question with that dried up old barren desert of yours."

Torako's mouth tightened, and a muscle twitched on her jaw. "What if you got a disease that wasn't treated in time? What if you passed it to Rico?" she said, doing her best to ignore Tomo's bilious insult. "What then? I don't think anything happened either, but you have to make sure."

Tomo was silent long enough for Torako to hear her heavy breathing. "If you don't want to do it, I won't force you. But you really need to consider the consequences."

The hallway was silent as Torako kept her stare on Tomo, trying to soften it to show she wasn't angry (even though she was furious). Tomo averted her eyes and stared at the floor, as if trying to process futures that could happen based on this one decision.

"Okay," Tomo said, looking up at Torako. "I'll do it."

...

Torako was going to pace the hallway for the tenth time when Tomo burst out of the forensics lab, the double doors creaking their joints. Her faced was scrunched up in a position that could only signal imminent sobbing.

"Oh no," Torako said, shaking her head in shock as she approached Tomo.

"Torako!" Tomo said, her voice choking back a sob. She tripped toward Torako, and buried her face in her chest.

"I'm so sorry," Torako said.

"I'm... I'm in the clear!" Tomo said. She giggled.

Torako's shock was quickly destroyed by annoyance and disgust.

"Idiot!" she said, pushing Tomo away from her. Tomo was laughing so hard tears showed up at the edge of her eyes.

"I can't believe you fell for that!" Tomo said between her hysterics. She grasped her sides and fell to the floor, her riotous laughter echoing throughout the hall. "You should've seen the look on your face! You were all 'Oh, I'm so sorry!'"

Torako could only stare at the rolling Tomo with her mouth agape in disgust. "You're a horrible human being," she said, shaking her head. "I can't believe you'd joke about... well, no, actually I can."

Tomo stood up, her laughter dying in chokes. "I would, wouldn't I?"

"And you're proud of it," Torako said. "I should hit you just on principle."

"Poor Torako, always resorting to violence to cover her stunted intellect," Tomo said, wiping away the tears at the edge of her eyes. She was down to giggles now.

"Let's get out of here and get this over with," Torako said. She turned around and headed toward the main office.

...

Kazumi had their team ready, and the chief presented them with a warrant to allow the search of Oda Otomo's office. Unfortunately, he wasn't given permission to use sniffer dogs, as the judge felt they'd send the wrong message to the public, whatever that meant.

The news reporters were still hanging around the entrance. They thrust microphones and cameras into the departing policemen's faces, and were met with officially sanctioned silence. They were pretty sure Oda's office was already aware of the upcoming search and interview, and the crew was pessimistic about finding anything incriminating.

Two unmarked patrol cars made off to Oda Otomo's office. Torako sat in the back while Tomo sat in the passenger, Kazumi driving after Torako turned down the offer. After they left their police headquarters, Tomo unbuckled her seatbelt and twisted her body to face Torako.

"Hey Torako," Tomo said, "what was with that guy asking to marry you? You two have a thing or something?"

"We really have to discuss that now?" Torako said, sending a glance to the back of Kazumi's head. The tips of Kazumi's ears were poking out through her hair.

"Well, why not know? Kazumi doesn't care, right Kazumi?"

"If Torako doesn't wish to discuss it, then we shouldn't press," Kazumi said.

"Too bad Kazumi, I didn't ask you anyway," Tomo said with a huff.

"But you just-"

"So anyway Hiro," Tomo said, drowning out Kazumi's protest. "What did you see in that jerk anyway?"

"I didn't find out he was a jerk until later," Torako said. "He hid it well."

"He kept calling you Thin Lezzy. What does that mean?"

"No idea," Torako said, watching Kazumi turn red in the rearview mirror.

"You're such a liar," Tomo said. She lowered her head so only her eyes were peeking over the back of her seat. "Don't think you're superior to me just because you understand a little bit of English." Tomo huffed and turned around, plopping her body into her seat. "We'll talk about this later. I'm going to make you spill everything."

"I can't wait," Torako muttered.

...

Kazumi pulled her unmarked car next to its partner, parked in front of the district one representative's office. Four doors opened on the other car, and three on Kazumi's, as all seven officers made their way to the entrance of the building. Torako showed the warrant to the protesting receptionist while Megane walked behind the receptionist's desk, asking to see security footage from two days ago. Kazumi requested the assistance of the local security guard in preventing anyone from leaving while they carried out their investigation, while Tomo and Torako took the stairs to the third floor, Oda Otomo's office. The other three members of their team policed the inhabitants; that was Kazumi's business. Tomo and Torako had interviews to conduct.

The entered the third floor, meeting stares from the office workers with warning stares. The two opened the Aya Suzuki's office and marched in.

A middle-aged overweight woman sitting behind Aya's desk stood up and greeted them with a bow.

"Hi, how may I help you?" she said.

"Who are you? Where's Aya?" Tomo said, leaning over the desk.

"My name is Michiko," the secretary said. "I'm sorry, but do you mean Aya Suzuki?"

"Are you really playing dumb?" Tomo said. "Who else would we mean, Aya Electronics?"

"I'm sorry, it's just that she resigned nearly two weeks ago," the secretary said. "The day after she was rescued from her kidnapping. I'm a temp until-"

"Liar!" Tomo said, slapping her hands on the desk. "She was here two days ago when I came in!"

"That's not possible," Michiko said, keeping her professional Pan-Am smile. "She wouldn't be allowed up here, no longer being an employee of Mr. Otomo."

"Where is he?" Torako said, studying a piece of corporate art hanging on the wall. It was entitled _The Sound and the Fury_, and was a collection of multi-colored paint splattered on a canvas with all the skill of a three-year-old in the middle of an epileptic seizure.

"He's been on vacation the past week," Michiko said. "He's visiting relatives in Sapporo. Do you need me to set up an appointment when he comes back?" She sat at her computer and moved the mouse to the appropriate program.

"Oh, you are good!" Tomo said, shaking her head. "How about I wait for him to come back? I'll just be sitting in that big ol' leather executive chair of his." Before Michiko could respond, Tomo headed toward the doors of Oda's office and flung them open. Torako followed her.

"May I watch while you search his office?" Michiko said, standing respectfully in the doorway. Tomo and Torako didn't answer.

"I was right here," Tomo said, as she related the story of her journey into unconsciousness to Torako. "I remember! I flung the tea at him, and missed, and it splashed this seal!"

"We'll take the seal with us," Torako said, studying the chrysanthemum hanging on the wall. "Get forensics to test it, assuming it hasn't been scrubbed since then." She turned to Michiko while Tomo plopped down in Oda Otomo's seat, rifling through his desk. "We'll need to get some men to remove this and take it out."

"I'll call the repairmen immediately," Michiko said.

"No, our men will handle it," Torako said. The thick heavy sounds of thumping feet came over the carpet, and Michiko's door opened. A worried Kazumi entered Oda's office.

"Tomo, Torako! We have got to leave now!"

Torako put her hand on her gun while Tomo shot out of Oda's seat.

"What happened?" Torako said.

"The chief called. Our search warrant has been rescinded! There's... there's something on the news. We need to get back to headquarters."

"Let's go," Torako said, moving toward the door with a grim frown. Michiko bowed at the departing officers, not bothering to disguise her sneer.

...

The something on the news was Tomo brandishing a gun at the receptionist in Oda Otomo's office, shouting something incomprehensible while people tried to calm her down. The receptionist, a young girl barely out of college, was in tears.

"This is footage from two days ago when investigator Tomo Takino, stationed in the Chiyoda ward, entered the office of Oda Otomo, the district one representative, and demanded permission to visit Mr. Otomo."

"That's not me!" Tomo shouted, pointing at the television. "I don't even have a gun! It's a setup!"

"We know it's a setup," the chief said, sitting in a chair, his face morose like a bear finding a river full of dead, rotting salmon. He was the only one in the office not watching the footage, while the rest of the office workers were crowded around the television. "They purposely held this footage for two days in case we tried to find something on them."

The anchor droned on while the footage ran, and the person with the gun turned around and faced the camera. It was a wide-eyed Tomo.

"That's not possible!" Tomo said, a sickening electricity running up and down her body. "I didn't do that."

"It was while you were drugged," Torako said, her arms folded while she watched the footage.

"P-probably a hallucinogen," Megane said, "combined with a b-barbiturate, maybe sodium pentothal. MK-ULTRA p-pioneered that trick. It makes you susceptible to suggestion."

"But who's going to believe that?" Tomo said, turning around to face the group crowded around the television. Already she could see the doubt in people's faces, people who were ready to be her comrade-in-arms in the fight against Oda Otomo were now abandoning her.

"Let me worry about that," the chief said.

"We now turn to Oda Otomo," the anchor said, "who was visiting relatives in Sapporo when this happened."

"Oh come on!" Tomo shouted.

"We speak to him live, at his cousin's house in Sapporo. Hello Mr. Otomo."

Oda Otomo's smiling face appeared on the television. He appeared freshly clean and gave the appearance of wholesome health, both physical and mental. After he greeted the anchor in his boyish, welcoming voice, the questioning began.

"I'm shocked and surprised about this even as much as you are," Oda Otomo said. "I remember Ms. Takino, when I thanked her for rescuing Aya Suzuki, my then secretary, from kidnappers. I'm aware of this warrant for her arrest at Kujukuri beach for murder, and I want to say I have complete faith that she is as innocent as she says she is."

"Idiot!" Tomo shouted.

"But Mr. Otomo," the anchor said, "after seeing this footage, how can you believe that Officer Takino is innocent of the murder of Ms. Inoue?"

"Well, you may see threatening behavior," Oda said, never once losing his smile, "but I see an officer dedicated to her role as protector of the innocent. Am I correct in saying that she was investigating a murder, and I was a possible suspect?"

"You're the only suspect!" Tomo shouted.

After the anchor confirmed Oda Otomo's question, he continued. "Well, I am proud to have an officer such as Tomo Takino serving my district. Such dedication to justice is rare in today's cynical world, and no charges will be pressed against her. I don't wish to interfere with police business, but I hope, if they do have to discipline her, that they allow her to keep her job."

Oda had kept his ready-made smile throughout the interview, some people watching it in their homes commenting on how he looked like a store mannequin, but now his face took on a rictus grin, his lips peeled back almost like he was baring his fangs. He stared straight at the camera, and said, "I'd hate for such a talented officer to... fall through the planks, as the saying goes."

The anchor thanked Oda for his time, and the interview ended. Torako reached over and punched the power button to the television. The light reflecting on the crowd's faces dimmed, and the officers blinked and started whispering and talking amongst themselves. Some believed Tomo. Most didn't.

"Fall through the planks?" Kazumi was overheard saying to Megane. "What does that even mean?"

Tomo's fists were clenched so tightly that her arms were shaking. She stood in front of the dead television, not moving or speaking. Torako went up and grasped her arm, and found it as hard as lead.

"Sit," Torako said, guiding her to an empty chair. She spoke into her ear. "We'll find a way to deal with this."

The chief got out of his seat and walked toward Tomo and Torako. "I'll deal with it," the chief said. "In the meantime I need to get the vultures off of our stoop. I'm not sure what the higher-ups are going to do to you, Takino, but I'm going to do what I can to help you."

"Thank you," Tomo said.

...

The chief was in a bad position. He was willing to go down fighting - to outright accuse Oda Otomo of both drugging Tomo and setting everything up to deflect accusations of being implicit in Asagi Ayase's murder - but Oda's praise of Tomo during the interview put him in a bad spot. It would have been easier if Oda had simply bashed and attacked Tomo, because then the chief would be seen as trying to defend his subordinate, an honorable task despite the severity of his accusations. But now it would just seem petty and even more ridiculous than it already sounded.

So chief Akiyama walked outside and put to use forty years' experience of playing reporters, using equal parts flattery and chiding. He gave non-committal answers to pointed questions, and stressed his faith in Tomo without actually accusing Oda and his office of any wrongdoing. It sickened him to play this game, to be dishonest, but he wasn't doing it for himself. He was trying to save his officer's career.

He was sailing along until a question he did not expect was hurled his way. He stopped, and said, "Could you repeat the question?"

"Yes," the reporter said. "In light of Aya Suzuki's suicide, and her suicide letter confessing to the murder of Miruchi Inoue, will the Kujukuri police department drop the murder charge against investigator Takino?"

Chief Akiyama studied the reporter closely. This isn't Squirrel, he thought, referring to the well-known reporter that asked fake questions to the police to expose them as liars. I don't know this guy. Am I being set up? I need to come up with an answer quick.

"We are closely working with the Kujukuri police department to find a mutually agreeable course of action," he said, deciding this was answer enough. He quickly ended the question and answer session, and the vultures scattered.

...

At sixteen hundred hours that day, while Tomo, Torako, and their crew were carrying out their abortive investigation of Oda Otomo's office, the body of Aya Suzuki, yellow dress soaked with mud, her wrists slashed open, was found in an alley near Hibiya Park. On her were Tomo Takino's badge, wallet, and cell phone.

Inside her pocket was a letter written in hasty hand, revealing herself to be the murderer of Miruchi Inoue. She explained that she and Miruchi were lovers, Miruchi broke up with her recently, and Aya killed her out of rage and jealousy.

The letter went on to explain that it was she, acting alone, that drugged Tomo Takino. Her letter claimed that Tomo, after speaking to Oda Otomo, left the office and walked outside, where Aya caught up to her and told Tomo she had evidence, in her apartment, concerning Oda Otomo's part in Asagi Ayase's murder. Duped, Tomo followed her home, where she was given tea drugged with sleeping powder.

When Tomo was out, Aya planted Tomo next to Miruchi's dead body at the beach house on Kujukuri beach. The beach house was owned by a local realtor who rented it out. The suicide letter claimed she broke in.

The letter claimed that Aya felt such remorse at what she did, and the damage she caused to Tomo's reputation, that she killed herself out of guilt and despair. The letter even revealed the location of the knife used in slitting Miruchi's throat, saying it was buried under the deck, next to the last pier on the left. The Kujukuri police found the weapon where the letter said it would be.

"That's not how it happened," Tomo said, sitting at her desk and listening to the report. Torako was at her own desk, sipping a mug of coffee "I lost consciousness inside his office."

"I know it isn't," Torako said. "How much do you want to bet that suicide letter is forged, and that Aya was murdered? None of these reports even mention Section One coming after you."

Tomo shook her head. "Yeah, I bet that's being covered up. This note… it's too elaborate to make sense, but revealing the location of the murder weapon is a real coup. Makes the letter look legit."

"Yeah, but who wrote it?" Torako said. "It couldn't be Oda Otomo, he just shot himself in the foot if so. It's basically a get out of free jail card for you."

Tomo smirked. "Maybe he let me go out of the kindness of his heart."

"Yeah right," Torako said. "I think he's realized by now that if you get wronged, you don't stop until you get revenge."

"Yeah!" Tomo said. She let out a half-hearted laugh and rubbed the back of her head. "No offense Torako, but this case of yours is getting way too complicated."

"Tell me about it," Torako said. "I wanted to solve one murder, and now I have three to deal with."

"I wonder," Tomo said, tapping her chin, "if there's a third party in this mess."

"How so?"

"Well, me not getting killed at the beach house, which we both thought would be the, uh, course of action that made most sense to an evil person who can't see how awesome I am."

"That's not how I would put it-"

"Hey!"

"-but yeah."

"Okay," Tomo said. "So, someone interfered with it, and I lived. Then that phone call..." Tomo trailed off, confusion on her face.

"I thought we agreed that was Osaka," Torako said.

"I'm not so sure. A lot of that was a blur," Tomo said. "So, my guess is, Aya was the one who prevented me from getting killed. She may have been the one trying to call me, to get me to flee before those Section One guys came after me. Or whoever they were."

"Why would she do that?"

"Oh you know, gratitude over being saved."

Torako snorted. "You're placing too much faith in human nature for that story to work, but go ahead."

"So anyway, Oda Otomo finds out and has Aya killed, making it look like a suicide. However, the letter is forged by someone out to get him, to... you know what? That doesn't make any sense either."

"We'd get a lot done by looking at the letter itself," Torako said. "It was only summarized in the report. I'll put in a request for the Shinbashi office to FAX it over here."

"Oh, and could you get them to return my stuff, please?" Tomo said. "I better have all my money, too."

...

While they waited for the FAX, Tomo tried to call Rico on his cell phone. The answering service picked up. She called his place of work, and was told that he had left for the day. So, she called home. Still no response.

"Bleah," Tomo said. "He must be out grocery shopping. Like we have the money for that right now."

"Two jobs? I thought you guys would be rolling in dough," Torako said.

"Eh, he sends a lot of it to Brazil, for his family there," Tomo said. "His dad passed away, so he's trying to help out his mom and younger bro- ooh, it's here!" Tomo said, listening to the FAX machine whirl to life. Torako grabbed the printed document and read it.

She made a half-hearted sigh and handed it to Tomo. "So much for that," she said. "The report summarized it perfectly. I need to learn to stop hoping for long shots to pay out." Torako was about to announce her exit to smoke, but was startled by Tomo's expression. Her skin was pale, and she gripped the paper tightly.

"Tomo?" Torako said. "You okay?"

"This," Tomo said, in a shaky voice. She swallowed. "This is Osaka's handwriting."

Torako stared at her before letting out a forced laugh. "Yeah, funny," Torako said.

Tomo sat down hard, and dropped the paper. Torako bent down to pick it up, and scanned over it again.

"It's her writing," Tomo said, finally fixing her dead stare on Torako. "Remember that note she left in the ashtray about her money? It's exactly the same handwriting."

"Okay," Torako said, tossing the paper away. "You're going crazy now. This is the third time we've tried to drag Osaka into this case, and we need to stop. We're letting her whole government connections stuff, and secret history, make us paranoid. If the chief says the Ministry of Defense and the U.S. Embassy are looking out for her, we'll have to assume she's okay."

Tomo averted her eyes. "Yeah… maybe," she said.

Torako bent down over Tomo and grabbed the arms of her chair. "That doesn't look like the same handwriting to me. We don't have Osaka's note, so we can't compare it."

Tomo turned her gaze toward Torako. "This whole thing- it's starting to get to me. Maybe I'm seeing things that aren't there."

Torako released her chair and stood up. "That's what I'd say."

"I'm done for the day," Tomo said. "I'm going to take the bus to Osaka's and ask her about the surf hut thing. I'll keep you informed."

...

"Naw, I didn't write none of that," Osaka said.

Tomo was at Osaka's taqueria, inside her private office, which was really more like a cubbyhole with a stool and a laptop. It gave them some semblance of privacy, but they still had to whisper.

"Osaka, I'm sorry to bother you about this," Tomo said. "I saw that note you left in the ashtray in your car, asking us not to take your money."

"That's where it went!"

"Osaka! I don't have that note anymore so I can compare the two, but if you have any handwriting samples you can show me, I'd appreciate it." Tomo bowed her head low.

"Sure you can!" Osaka said, saluting. "Anything to help the police." She rifled around on her desk, and grabbed a memo pad, handing it to Tomo. "I put down a lot of my ideas for dishes there. It might be helpful."

Tomo compared the notes side-by-side to the suicide note, and saw that they were vastly different. Osaka wrote her recipe ideas in a rambling longhand devoid of punctuation, and her loose, almost childish scrawl in no way matched the precise and flowing script on the suicide note.

Tomo sighed, her head down. She handed the memo book to Osaka, and then folded the note and put it in her pocket. "I'm sorry Osaka, for accusing you."

"Aw, that's okay Tomo," Osaka said. "I don't take that sort of thing personally anyway. I know you get all weirded out with stuff I can't talk about and everything."

"Thank you," Tomo said. She slunk into the stool and laughed. "I was beating myself up for suspecting my own friend. You really scare me sometimes."

"Me?"

"I don't know what to think, what with all that's been going on. Your government work, it's just... it's hard to read you when I can't know what you're up to. When I'm not allowed to know."

"I'm really sorry about that Tomo," Osaka said. She patted her shoulder. "I guess it's not much of a secret now, but I was the one that was trying to get a call through to that beach house. I was waiting for you personally at that hut."

"We figured," Tomo said. "It was too much of a coincidence. Thanks for saving my life."

"Oh, you saved your own life with that running. That was cool. But anyways, I'm going to make Alekhine - that's my liaison's name, Alekhine – meet with you and tell you as much as he can. It's not fair for you to be all scared about my past."

"Thanks," Tomo said. "Sorry, but I got to go. My stomach is killing me." Tomo hopped down from the stool and rubbed her stomach. She groaned. "I hate how complicated everything has become."

"You know what you need?" Osaka said, hopping down from her stool. "You need seven seas soup!"

"Seven seas soup?"

"Yeah, it's Mexican seafood stew! It's really tasty. I can make some for ya when I get off from work."

"Well yeah," Tomo said, doing her best to charge enthusiasm through her nausea. "Bring it on over tonight!"

...

Tomo burst open through her apartment door.

"Rico, where are you hiding?" She shouted. "I've been calling you all day. What are you doing with the lights out anyway?"

She reached over and flicked on a switch.

In her kitchen, tied to a chair, battered and bloody, was her husband Rico, trying to scream through the gag stuffed in his mouth.

Tomo immediately pulled out her bokken, but a dull pain vibrated into her head, and she fell to the ground.

...

**A/N:** There was a long author's note that doesn't really belong here, so I went ahead and deleted it. I was bellyaching about struggling with perceived OOC and whatnot.


	19. Chapter 19

Tomo opened her eyes.

The blurry kitchen ebbed and waned into focus, as if an invisible optometrist were passing a variety of lenses over Tomo's eyes. Saying yes or no wouldn't make them stop, so Tomo had to ride it out.

She blinked. Were there shadows in her kitchen? Yes, she could see five shapes, like dark pillars jutting from the floor. Why can't I move?

She heard breathing next to her, and she turned her head. It was Rico, bound to a chair, a gag in his mouth, beaten and bloody. Their kitchen was small, but he looked as if he was at the end of a long shadowy corridor. Tomo's disorientation straightened into painful awareness. Rico's eyes rolled, as they lost and gained focus. He's been drugged, Tomo thought.

"Rico," she said, her voice raspy. She wasn't gagged. "Rico, are you okay?"

"Ah, so she's awake," a voice said, soft and wise like a beloved grandfather. "Good. We can begin."

A powerful blast like a sonic boom tore into Tomo's cheek. She yelped in pain as her head snapped to the side. A multitude of unnatural colors crawled across her vision, the physical manifestation of the pain she felt. She could hear Rico moaning through his gag.

"No, not that," the kindly grandfather said. "That's far too extreme. Apologize to Ms. Takino."

Tomo's eyes adjusted, but she still only saw moving shadows instead of actual people.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Takino," another voice said, this one growly.

"What do you guys want?" Tomo said, her cheek stinging from the powerful slap. Her skin had broken, and a sliver of blood flowed down her cheek and dripped on her pants. "Did Oda Otomo send you? Let Rico go, he didn't do anything."

"What's an Oda Otomo?" The grandfather said. "Oh, you mean the district one representative. No, we have nothing to do with him. Why would we? We have no interest in politics."

Tomo heard a chair scraping the floor, and the shadow that produced the voice of the grandfather sat down. Something metallic scraped against the top of the kitchen table. A match was struck.

Tomo peered intently into the light, trying to catch a glimpse of the shadows, but all she saw was a white goatskin glove holding a match. The match touched a wick, and a gas lantern lit. The glass cover was placed over the shiny wick.

Tomo could see faces now. They were sculpted by shadow and light, and nothing was absolute. Her kitchen seemed to expand and contract, breathing like a living thing. She saw a woman in a black jumpsuit, and realized this was the thief that broke into Sakaki's veterinarian clinic.

Sitting down in front of her was the owner of the grandfatherly voice. He was seen more clearly in the lantern light. He was as old as his voice, but gaunt, with a nose stolen from a grotesque on an ancient Austrian castle. His thin lips smiled.

"Your husband's role in this is regrettable, I admit," the man said in the grandfatherly voice. "It can't be helped, I'm afraid. He put up quite a fight. We had to-"

Tomo screamed for help at the top of her lungs. All that came out was a wispy, scratchy moan. Her throat felt as if it was lined with sawdust.

"Ahem," the man said. "We had to subdue him, thus the wounds you see on his face and body. The amount of tranquilizers we put in him, well, they would've killed a normal man twice over. I assure you, we didn't enjoy it. Also, you'll notice your vocal chords are impaired. A minor muscle relaxant injected into your throat. We want to have a discourse, which is normally two-way, you see. Gagging you wouldn't work, but we couldn't have you calling for help."

"What are you going to do to us?" Tomo said. "You think I'm going to give in to your torture?"

"Torture?" the man said, showing himself appalled at the very thought. "We absolutely do not engage in torture. No Ms. Takino, we are merely going to discipline you."

Tomo strained against her bounds, rocking her chair. "Who are you? What am I being disciplined for? What gives you the right?"

The man snapped his gloved fingers, making a sound like an egg dropped on a silk blanket. "Ah, I can't believe I was so rude as to not introduce myself!" He stood from his chair and faced one of the faces flickering in the lantern light. "Kirilov, why did you not remind me?"

"I apologize, sir," a voice said.

"I forgive you, Kirilov." He sat back down and faced Tomo. "You can call me Stavrogin."

"That's not a name!"

"On the contrary, it is. It's my name. As far as the right to discipline you goes, well, rights are something taken, not granted. A process de facto, not a process du jour. You see? Now, to answer the most important question: why you are being disciplined."

Stavrogin stood up from his seat, and with his hands behind his back, began to pace the kitchen. The kitchen seemed to expand with each movement he took, creating new space for him to move in. Tomo shut her eyes tight, and opened them again. She hated the lantern and the tricks of light it was playing on her. How can I make it stop?

He stopped pacing and faced Tomo. "Tell me Ms. Takino, what do you think you're trying to accomplish? Solve a mere murder?"

"That's the idea," Tomo said. "I'm a cop..." she trailed off as she wondered why she was cooperating. I'm not like this, she thought. What's going on?

"Ms. Takino, it is a wicked and evil world we inhabit, and I feel gratitude that you, beautiful daughter of Japan, are doing your part to clean it. A futile part."

"There's nothing futile about what I do!" Tomo said, feeling nausea at this man calling her beautiful. "I've saved people's lives."

Stavrogin laughed, and, as if on cue, his four compatriots laughed too. The lantern flame seemed to laugh with them, darting light and shadow across the walls.

"No," Stavrogin said, "It is a worthless exercise in which you are engaged. Saving what can't be saved. But enough, there is no murder. You are delusional."

Tomo opened her mouth to speak, but closed it. She felt as if she wasn't in control of her own body. She heard Rico grunt.

"You aren't solving a murder, Ms. Takino, you are meddling. You are meddling in the affairs of those who love mankind. You are interfering with the apotheosis of mankind, and you must be disciplined!" Stavrogin began bellowing. "You think you saw a corpse in that hotel room? There was no corpse! There was only a collection of subatomic data and a false holographic nature beamed from outside our universe! The ape of God! A spurious reality designed to deceive the innocent and naïve, and you blundered into it! And you will atone! You MUST atone!"

Despite being tightly strapped to a chair, Tomo felt incredible vertigo, as if gravity had grabbed her and was going to knock her against the floor.

"The innocent have their own sin, just as the wicked," Stavrogin said. "Your sin is the sin of Percival. You only believe what is set in front of you. You trust the obvious form and ignore the latent form. You sin isn't as great as the greedy men, the narcissists who bring their own fellow humans to ruin over filthy lucre."

"Wait," Tomo said, "you're a nihilist, right? That's your shtick?"

"No, no nihilist," Stavrogin said, shaking his head. "A realist. Now Ms. Takino, an important question. I don't expect a reply, but you may if you must. In Armageddon, how will mankind react?"

It was such an unexpected question that Tomo snorted a laugh. "Seriously?"

"Yes, absolutely," Stavrogin said. "With mankind in the state it is now, how will it react when we gods have Ragnarok visited upon us? What do you think?"

Tomo shook her head. "I have no idea how to even answer that."

Stavrogin clicked his lips at Tomo. "I am disappointed," Stavrogin said. "We are definitely in the end times. Buddha is in the park, and he is awakening. Michael is descending from heaven with a sword protruding from his mouth, and he will slaughter. Fenrir is loosed from his chains, and Garm is howling the earth's final howl. The last avatar of Vishnu has been chosen. The noosphere is online. Do you understand? The end of humankind is upon us. With this knowledge, how will mankind act?"

Stavrogin took long strides to his seat and sat down in front of Tomo, leaning in toward her. "There won't be a mass conversion in the face of eternal destruction. There will be no combining of resources, to construct some new universe to escape being thrown into the lake of fire. There won't be an outpouring of love and compassion when the end comes. There won't even be a principled misotheistic last stand."

He leaned back in his seat, his face, formally kindly, now contorted with deep psychic pain. "There will be a great selling out," Stavrogin said. "It will be a mass movement of mammon as mankind does everything in its power to profit from its impending death. Selfish, narcissistic, greedy, hedonistic behavior. Betrayal. Rancid materialism. We deserve our judgment." He shook his head sadly.

"But there is hope," he said, pointing a finger, leaning up in his seat to lean in closely to Tomo. Tomo could smell the pomade in his hair and the wax on his mustache, mixing in with his sandalwood cologne. It sickened her.

"Just as a great crowd exits Armageddon into eternal paradise, or Lif and Lifprasir survive The Twilight of the Gods, there will be survivors. You, my dear beautiful daughter of Japan, have the opportunity to be one of those chosen few. That, my dear child, is the eschatology we will teach you."

The four people begin clapping as Stavrogin stood from his seat, giving slight bows to his four underlings as the lantern light flickered. The kitchen swelled like a concert hall, and their clapping multiplied into thousands. Tomo realized that she had been drugged too. What did they put in me, she thought. She remembered what Megane had said, about a hallucinogen and a barbiturate, whatever that was. They're trying to control my mind! I can't let them do that! Fight it!

"So, my dear Ms. Takino," Stavrogin said, as he wiped his brow with a lace handkerchief. "What say you?"

"Oh, I get it," Tomo said. "You guys saw me on TV from your insane asylum, became obsessed with me, and broke out to stalk me! Yeah, that makes perfect sense!" Tomo could hear Rico laughing through his gag. His voice encouraged her.

An egg timer dinged. It was Tomo's, sitting on the kitchen somewhere beyond the lantern light. One of the shadows twisted the knob, and Tomo could hear the ticking. He picked up a clipboard.

In a backstage voice, Stavrogin turned and said, "Hey Shiggy, what's next on the itinerary?"

"Hmm," Shiggy said, ticking a check next to an item. "Classical music composers."

"Ah, very good," Stavrogin said, and he turned back to Tomo.

"Wait, wait, what the hell?" Tomo said, head darting back and forth between Stavrogin and the man holding the clipboard. "A torture itinerary? You people really are insane."

"Itinerary? Whatever do you mean?" Stavrogin said, in his kindly grandfather voice. "Those words weren't spoken here. And again, Ms. Takino, this is mere discipline, not torture. Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm so tired of that!" Tomo said, trying to shout through her numb throat. "I'm not falling for it again! Get the hell out of here you freaks!" Tomo began struggling against her ropes. She turned her head to look at Rico, who was staring at her through his haze. He narrowed his eyes.

Stavrogin grabbed Tomo's head and pulled it toward him. "Mr. Watanabe is proving a distraction," Stavrogin said. "Move him behind her, please." He let go of her head as two of the shadows pushed Rico's chair back.

"Now, let's discuss the European classical tradition," Stavrogin said, and Tomo wondered if she was in Hell.

...

"-who, Berlioz?" Stavrogin was saying. "A mere journeyman savage, creating his silly undernourished music for those only looking for cheap thrills. Program music is the worst abomination to defile the symphony. What right-thinking musician sticks a harp glissando in the middle of a symphony? I can imagine the poor harpist in _Symphonie Fantastique_, sitting through untold boredom. Finally the conductor looks at her, and she makes her little shimmery movement. Then, never used again. Mere artifice, and nothing more."

Stavrogin started the rant on the musicians he loved, Bach, Liszt, and Chopin, before continuing into the musicians he despised. He called Mozart a "mathematical dabbler with melodies like nursery rhymes."

"Wagner," the man holding the clipboard said, ticking off a box with his pen.

"Overwrought egotistical masturbation," Stavrogin said. "Musical onanism. He plays his music in wide strokes, faster and louder, thrusting his ridiculous leitmotifs into the audience's ears, until finally spraying them with his bombastic seed. Of course, I can respect that," Stavrogin said, with a smirk. "He's a far sight better than Mahler, who doesn't bother to build his music properly, blundering into a premature climax and spurting his musical Cowper's fluid all over his listeners."

Tomo wondered if maybe, just maybe, actual physical torture would be better than this.

...

The physical torture came, and Tomo changed her mind.

A huge hulking figure, nearly as tall as Rico, came and removed her from her chair. Her ankles and arms were still bound together. He picked her up and carried her to her table, which had been cleared of any items. Tomo struggled and kicked against him, and it felt like her feet were hitting sandbags built into a levee, holding back a flood.

"Bring her over here, Pyotr," the woman said. Pyotr obeyed, his huge meaty hands holding Tomo by the waist.

"I can walk dammit," Tomo said. She yelped as Pyotr dropped her, and grabbed her arms, holding her cuffs out for the woman to unlock them. She did, and Tomo tried to escape from Pyotr's grip, but she couldn't break his strength.

She was splayed over the table, face down, and Pyotr pushed her arms down and cuffed each one to its respective table leg. He grabbed her feet to keep her from moving. The woman unlocked the shackles on Tomo's legs, and Pyotr pushed them down to clamp them to their respective table legs.

He got the right one cuffed, but his gripped slipped from her left leg, and Tomo kicked, nailing him in the face.

"Thank you," Pyotr said, as he grabbed her leg and cuffed it to the leg. He walked into Tomo's line of sight, and she saw a trickle of blood drip from his nose.

"Ha!" she said.

The woman picked up her shirt and sliced through it, splitting it apart and splaying it like a cadaver in a biology class. Tomo felt the cool interior air brush against her bare back. She even cut her bra strap.

"What, are you guys going to eat Sushi off of my back or something? I charge for that, you know."

"I would admire your attempt at levity," Stavrogin said, "but you are trembling like a newborn calf."

"I'm cold!" Tomo said. Pyotr lifted the table at a diagonal, and held it up.

"I want you to understand something," Stavrogin said, as he stood in front of Tomo's vision, her head turned to the side. He had a look of pained compassion and pity. "This hurts me more than it hurts you."

Tomo opened her mouth to make a snappy retort, but was silenced by the snap of a leather belt and searing pain. It was pain like a blast of cold Arctic wind and Sahara desert heat running together, splitting open her back and rushing up her spine, filling her brain and her consciousness with sharp, violating pain. It was pain that sucked the oxygen out of her lungs. She still had enough thought left to make a promise to herself; she wasn't going to scream or cry. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

She broke her promise after the fourth strike, her strained, raspy voice yelping quietly in pain. She was sobbing by the tenth strike. The eighteenth strike hit, and she vomited.

She passed out at the twenty-ninth strike. Stavrogin halted the whipping, and had Pyotr hold the table straight up. Stavrogin unshackled Tomo, and leaned back her unconscious form, cradling her as if she was a newborn child.

"Kirilov? Adrenaline."

"A moment," Kirilov said. He dug into his black doctor's bag and pushed a syringe into a bottle, filling it with liquid. He approached Tomo, holding the syringe up. He grabbed the collar of her split shirt, and pulled it down, exposing her chest. He jabbed the needle into her heart, and Tomo came to life, gulping air and trembling in pain and fear.

She was quickly cuffed back to the table, and the whipping continued. She could not escape into unconsciousness now, as the stimulant coursing through her veins refused to let her experience the pain in anything less than full, burning reality.

Shiggy called out, "Forty minus one," and the whipping stopped. Pyotr lowered the table, and Kirilov came and rubbed some sort of ointment into her bleeding welts.

Tomo tried to will herself to stop crying, but she couldn't do it. The tears and shaking did not stop.

Stavrogin, with his look of pity, came and combed her hair with his fingers. Tomo didn't have the strength to spit at him or to even shudder at his touch. "I felt each strike of the belt," he said, his voice cracking with sorrow. "You should know how merciful we are. Using a regular whip surely would have killed you. Kirilov here wanted to dress you in a clown suit, with clown makeup."

"Humiliation is more effective than pain," Kirilov said, in his dead tone.

"Psychos," Tomo managed to say. Even that small insult, delivered in trembling tones and packaged in sobs, felt like a victory.

She was uncuffed from the table, and collapsed to the floor. Pyotr carried her back to her chair, and cuffed her again. Tomo had no energy to fight back, or to even move her limbs. Between her choking sobs was the worst sound of all; Rico weeping, unable to save his wife. Tomo felt deep shame that he had to see that, and was powerless to stop it.

Stavrogin eyed Rico warily. "Kirilov, the tranquilizer is wearing off," he said. "He's fighting against it. Prepare an injection, please."

"Yes sir," Kirilov said, opening his back and digging through its contents.

"What's next on the itinerary?"

Shiggy ticked something on his clipboard. "You read from your memoirs, sir."

"Very good," Stavrogin said. He produced a book as if out of thin air and began reading:

_I learned chess from my uncle who went insane after three failed attempts at assassinating Hitler._

_"Checkmate," he would say, gleefully knocking my thimble off of the board._

_"But uncle," I would protest, "we're playing Monopoly."_

_My uncle would then burst into tears. "It's all illusions," he screamed, grabbing the playing board and slinging it into the air. Multicolored money would rain down as he wept uncontrollably-_

"Ms. Takino?" Stavrogin said. "Ms. Takino? Are you still there? Shiggy! What's going on?"

"I, uh, I don't know," Shiggy said. "What's she doing?"

"She's turning incorporeal! Kirilov, what the hell did you give her?"

"Adrenochrome-"

"Idiot!" Stavrogin said, throwing the book at his head. "It was supposed to be adrenalin! Ms. Takino! Tomo! Tomo, wake up!"

"Gah, I'm awake," Tomo said, swatting away a rolled up text book that was bouncing against her head.

"Awake?" Ms. Yukari said, tapping her rolled up English teaching manual in her hand. "So you were sleeping, eh?"

"What? No, no," Tomo said. "I meant I was awake in a general sense, as in aware of today's possibilities." She gave Ms. Yukari a deadpan stare.

"Awake doesn't mean that in any sense!" Ms. Yukari said. "Just for that, you read aloud page seventy-four. Stat!"

"Oh okay," Tomo grumbled, standing up with her book. "I'll read it. Stat."

...

"That sure was a... um... interesting reading you did, Tomo," Chiyo said, as she split her chopsticks. "I don't think I ever heard the murder scene in _A Good Man is Hard to Find_ read with such... circus overtones."

Tomo, Chiyo, and Yomi sat at their standard table in the school cafeteria. Around them was the bustle of their fellow students eating and talking, voices melding together in the soundtrack of high school lunchtime.

"It was the best reading ever!" Tomo said, after slamming her empty bowl of curry down on the cafeteria table. "Did you see Ms. Yukari? She totally wanted to praise my spectacular voice acting abilities, but she held back because she knew a certain porker would get insanely jealous. Right Yomi?"

"Interesting isn't the word I'd use, moron," Yomi said, her left eyebrow twitching while she studied her shameful amount of pork cutlet. "And Ms. Yukari wasn't at all impressed with your reading."

"I've never seen anyone crush a glass coke bottle in their bare hands before," Chiyo said. She let out a nervous giggle.

Tomo scanned the bustling cafeteria, looking for her missing friends. "Hey, is it just us? Where's Sakaki and Osaka and Kagura?"

"Kagura's in the nurse's office," Chiyo said. "No telling where Osaka and Sakaki are."

Tomo's radar-like scanning of the cafeteria halted as she zeroed in on an unexpected sight.

"Why is Kaorin's face buried in her bowl of Udon?"

Kaorin's face was indeed buried in her bowl. Thick strands of noodles hung over the side, one stuck in her hair. She was motionless.

"I saw that when I came in," Yomi said. "She even scared Chihiro."

"Should we check on her?" Chiyo said. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't she be?" Tomo said. "I bet it has something to do with Sakaki." Tomo made a wide, leering grin. "Heh heh heh."

"Your perverted laugh is ruining my meal," Yomi said.

"I bet it's your fault, anyway," Tomo said.

Yomi ignored her.

...

"Alright, do some stretching! We don't want any cramps," Ms. Kurosawa said into her megaphone. A chorus of "yes ma'am" came from the swimsuited students, as they stood on the concrete walkway surrounding the school pool.

"Hey Yomi, do you get cramps?" Tomo said, as she pinched a piece of Yomi's waist. "I bet you have to take a whole box of Midol."

"Jerk!" Yomi shouted, as she bashed Tomo on the head with a spare paddle board. She turned a deep crimson as bare-chested boys, soaked with pool water and sweat, whispered and stared. "Learn some respect!"

"Ow, Yomi!" Tomo said, as she rubbed the top of her head with both hands, gritting her teeth in the pain. "Why do you have to be so mean? Torako doesn't hit me all the time! She actually makes comebacks, lame as they are!"

"Um, who's Torako?" Chiyo said, trying to insert herself between the two bickering friends.

"Someone who doesn't hit me all the time, that's who!" Tomo shouted.

"Her sister," Yomi said. "Goes to another school."

"She'd totally be protecting me from your evil machinations, I bet!" Tomo said, shaking her fist at Yomi. "She wouldn't let you get away with this!"

"She'd probably approve," Yomi said, as she put on her glasses. "You treat her worse than anyone else."

"Hey, there's Kaorin!" Tomo said.

"Are you even listening to me?" Yomi said.

"Hey Kaorin!" Tomo shouted, waving her over in broad strokes. "Over here!"

Chiyo could not hide her concern. "Is she okay? She looks so pale."

Indeed, Kaorin had an unhealthy paleness, a nearly transparent appearance. She was skinny and her face was like rice paper stretched over a brittle model of a human skull.

"I bet she's pining over Sakaki," Tomo snickered.

"You call me Tomo?" Kaorin asked. Despite her appearance, she still acted as the slightly neurotic and polite Kaorin.

"Yeah Special K, I got a question," Tomo said, putting an arm around her.

"Special K?" Kaorin said, some fear entering her face over Tomo's leer.

"If my knockers were as huge as Sakaki's, would you have a crush on me?"

"Pervert!" Kaorin shouted, throwing Tomo's arm off her shoulder. "I don't have a crush on Sakaki! I just admire her as the finest example of humankind to ever walk the planet."

"Those are different words for the same thing," Yomi said, crossing her arms while watching Tomo direct her theatre of the absurd, staring Kaorin.

"Oh Sakaki," Kaorin said, folding her hands together over her heart while looking longingly toward the school, "This world is too sullied for such a pure saint as you!"

"Wow," Tomo said.

"Hmph! I don't expect you to understand!" Kaorin said. She marched away from the group. She let lose a derisive sneer over her shoulder. "And for the record, your boobs even being half the size as Sakaki's is a pipe dream. You need to face reality, Tomo."

"They'll grow!" Tomo shouted. "Just you wait!"

"I've had enough," Yomi said. "I'm going back to class."

"Wait," Chiyo said. "Is that Osaka?"

The three stared across the water and saw Osaka standing on the other side at the edge of the pool. Next to her leg was a plastic bag.

Tomo cupped her hands. "Osaka! What are you doing over there?"

Like a distant voice in a tunnel, Osaka said, "Don't worry Tomo, I'm coming as fast as I can! Hang in there!" Osaka jumped into the pool and began swimming toward the other side.

"Um, what is Ms. Osaka up to?"

"No telling, Chiyo," Yomi said. She turned to Tomo. "What are you hanging in there for?"

"Hey, don't ask me," Tomo said, with an exasperated shake of her head. "Only Osaka knows why she does anything."

The three watched Osaka's fruitless thrashing as the water refused to carry her forward.

"Well, we can't stand here all day," Yomi said, observing Osaka's miscarriage of swimming with amusement and annoyance. "Let's get to class."

"Is Ms. Osaka going to be okay?" Chiyo said.

"Hey, I'm not worried about her," Tomo said. "She'll show up eventually. It's probably Yomi's fault she's over there anyway."

"Stop blaming things on me!" Yomi said.

...

Tomo was late getting back to class because she wasted time in the locker, popping girls with her wet towel, Chiyo especially. The young girl's pigtails were frizzy with fear. Yomi intervened and put a stop to Tomo's reign of terror.

Tomo was running through the hall to get the class when she ran into Mr. Kimura.

"Whoop, sorry Mr. Kimura," Tomo said.

"I found you," Mr. Kimura said in a grandfatherly voice. His head turned around toward the window, as if addressing someone only he could see. "An astral projection to a more idyllic time. Prepare the mescaline-amphetamine concentrate."

Tomo ran away from Mr. Kimura, heading toward her class. "What a weirdo," Tomo muttered to herself.

...

"Everybody's late!" Tomo shouted, as she burst through the doorway into Ms. Yukari's class. "I'm early! Reversal of fortune!"

"You can't change reality on a whim," Yomi said. "And besides, Yukari hasn't shown up yet."

The classroom was in a state of controlled chaos, with students talking, desks moved into semi circles, and general talk about the day's activities. Sakaki sat at her desk, drawing something on a sheet of paper while Chiyo watched.

"Ha! I win again." Tomo said, slapping the nearest desk with the palm of her hand.

"You don't win anything," Yomi said.

Tomo ignored the sourpuss while she hung her bag on the hook of her desk. She began to make way toward Yomi's desk when she slowed to a halt, transfixed on the window.

"Uh, what is Osaka doing?"

"Standing by the window, I guess," Yomi said, without looking.

"Yeah, but why is she outside on the ledge?"

Yomi shrugged. "What's that you said earlier? Only Osaka knows why she does anything?"

Tomo walked toward the window. "Probably your fault anyway."

Yomi growled and slammed the top of her desk with her fists. "Stop blaming things on me!"

Tomo grabbed the window and slid it opened. She stuck her head out to talk to Osaka, who was standing on the third story ledge. The hard ground lay below. Osaka had a plastic bag in her hand.

"Uh, Osaka? What are you doing?"

"Tryin' to get to class Tomo, what's it look like?"

"Why are you outside?"

"I don't rightly know," Osaka said, looking down at the ledge she was standing on. "I've kinda been away from everybody here through no intention of my own."

"I'll, uh, leave the window open for you."

"Thanks Tomo," Osaka said. Tomo pulled back in, when Osaka said, "Hey Tomo?"

Tomo stuck her head back outside. "Yeah?"

"You know this can't last, right?"

"I know," Tomo said. "Let me enjoy it while I can, okay?"

"Alrighty," Osaka said, smiling. "Hang in there."

Tomo reentered the classroom, and let lose a maniacal laugh. "Let's nail all these desks on the ceiling before Yukari gets back!"

"Hey, Kagura's back from the nurse's office," Chiyo said, pointing at the entrance.

"Hiya Kagura!" Tomo shouted. "Go steal a hammer from the storage shed, we got pounding to do!"

"Tomo!" Kagura shouted, her face contorted with rage. She limped toward Tomo, her legs obscured by a row of desks. "You're going to pay!"

"Pay? We don't need to pay, the grounds keeper won't... oh my god."

Kagura entered Tomo's row, and came into view. He left leg, smooth, brown and muscular, carried her right leg, which dragged on the floor. Skin had been ripped from it, and thick blood and pus oozed down the deep cuts. Her femur had broken, and the jagged white bone edge had torn through her brown, bloody flesh, exposing her torn leg muscle, ripped to shreds.

Tears streamed down Kagura's face while she limped closer to Tomo, who backed away in terror. The rest of the class had frozen solid. Osaka screamed wordlessly and banged on the window with her right fist, her left handing holding her bag.

"I can't swim anymore!" Kagura shouted, sobbing. She pushed her fists into her eyes and cried piteously, thick tears streaming down her face.

"Kagura!" Sakaki said, jumping out of her seat. "Lay down, I can fix it-"

"Get away from me!" Kagura shouted, pushing Sakaki away from her. "You're in on it to! You're jealous of me! You can't beat me in swimming, and you want to take it away!"

"Th-that's not true," Sakaki said, her soft grey eyes quivering. "I want to help you."

The door slid open, and Yukari rushed in. "Settle down kids, we have oh my god Kagura what the hell happened to your leg!"

"Tomo-"

"Yomi did it!" Tomo shouted.

"I did not!" Yomi shouted, jumping up from her desk.

"Yomi did it?" Chiyo said, eyes narrowed in confusion. "But I thought-"

"It was all Yomi!" Tomo shouted, thrusting an accusing finger at Yomi. Tomo's voice quivered like a bow string after it released an arrow. "She made me do it!"

"I'm not taking this," Yomi said, quietly, like the soft paws of a lynx hunting in a dense forest. She lifted her head, a trail of tears burrowing down her face. "I'm not putting up with this anymore!" she shouted, and she lunged at Tomo, knocking her to the ground. She lifted a fist and screamed while Tomo desperately lifted her hands to block the impending punch.

Osaka's fist broke through the glass window. It shattered like the explosion of a supernova, as a thousand broken shards of glass sailed through the air, reflecting every centimeter of the classroom as they fell to the floor.

"Geh," Tomo said. She looked around, cuffed and shackled to the chair in her kitchen while the lantern light played tricks on her vision. She could hear Rico behind her, scraping something against his chair. He was breathing louder, his copious sweat and tears had unpeeled the duct tape gag away from his mouth. The wet paper towel they had stuffed into his mouth was on the floor. The five hadn't bothered to re-gag him, or simply didn't notice that he had spat it out.

"Ah, welcome back," Stavrogin said. He held up his hand, holding several cards. The other four, Shiggy, Kirilov, Pyotr, and the woman sat around the kitchen table, each holding a hand of cards. Half-empty tea cups bordered the edge of the table.

"We took a little breather, as you can see. It was scheduled," Stavrogin said. "Did you have a nice nap?"

"What was... you said astral projection?" Tomo said.

Stavrogin snorted. "Astral projection? No such thing."

Tomo sighed. "Hey, are those my teacups? I didn't give you permission to use those."

"We cleaned up your vomit," Stavrogin said, turning his attention back toward their card game. "That's something you should've done."

"That tea smells awful," Tomo said. She could focus enough through the burning pain on her back to deliver whatever insults she could. "Who made that junk?"

Pyotr growled, looking past his cards at Tomo. Tomo smiled.

"What did you do, pee in it? I bet you did. You're all drinking pee!"

"Your childish insults are inexcusable," Stavrogin said, bored with another losing hand. Pyotr glared at her.

"Did you learn it from your mom? I bet you did. I bet she squatted-"

Pyotr grabbed the teacup and threw it at Tomo's head. She barely had time to close her eyes when it shattered against her face. She screamed as she felt shrapnel pierce her skin.

"You stupid ignorant savage!" Stavrogin shouted, jumping from his chair. "You'll have to pay for that, Pyotr! Kirilov, treat these now!"

"Yes sir," Kirilov said, dropping his hand to dig through his black doctor's bag.

Stavrogin leaned in front of Tomo and pulled a piece of porcelain out of her forehead. "You poor, poor sweet girl," he said. He kissed her wound.

"Stop," Tomo said, repulsed. She felt like she was going to throw up again. "Stop it."

"My dear daughter," he said, as he began kissing her face. Tomo jerked her head away, but he grabbed it and held it in his powerful, wrinkled hands. "Let me treat your wounds," he said. He stuck out his thick, wet, pink tongue and licked the cut on her forehead, leaving a trail of saliva like a snail's path. Tomo gagged, and her body spasmed in revulsion.

"You shouldn't have said those things to him," Stavrogin said. He stuck out his tongue again, but was stopped by a guttural growl from behind Tomo.

He stood up. "Kirilov?"

"Yes sir?"

"Did you tranq Mr. Watanabe again?"

Kirilov paused in thought. "I was preparing a solution," he said, "but was distracted by Ms. Takino passing out."

"Kirilov?" Stavrogin said, still eyes not moving from Rico. "Prepare a solution immediately. I think they've worn off."

An explosion of torn rope and splintered wood blasted through the kitchen as Rico escaped from his bounds. With a roar that could cower any lion, he jumped over Tomo and landed his giant hand on Stavrogin's throat, pushing him to the floor.

The four at the table jumped up from their chairs and pulled out katanas. The woman was fastest. She leapt over the table and slashed, passing by Rico, and landing on the floor. Tomo couldn't see what happened, but she saw the woman's blood drenched sword.

"No," Tomo said.

Rico lurched off of Stavrogin and clasped his throat with both hands. A dark liquid sprayed the wall, its origin and make clear despite the dim lantern light. Rico fell to his knees, and collapsed, landing face down. The four did not move as Stavrogin picked himself off of the floor, rubbing his throat.

"R-Rico?" Tomo whispered.

A thick pool of blood, more blood than should ever leave a man, grew from Rico's throat. He wasn't moving.

"Rico!" Tomo shouted.

Pyotr lumbered over to Rico and flipped his body on its back. From her chair, Tomo could see the clear cut across Rico's throat, like a smile, and the empty, lifeless look in his eyes.

She screamed. Through her impaired vocal chords, she screamed.

"Well damn it, Shatov," Stavrogin said, looking at the woman, as she used a handkerchief to clean the blood from her sword.

"I'll kill you all!" Tomo screamed. She fought against her restraints, knocking the chair on the floor. She lay on the floor and screamed, "Kill all of you!" Her screams descended into gibberish; mad, slurred speech coming from a broken place inside her.

Stavrogin, breathing heavily and rubbing his throat, looked at Tomo as she spoke her threats in a primeval and unwritten language that had been forgotten by mankind, but never truly died. "We're not going to turn her at this rate," Stavrogin said. "Get the corpse out of here, we're going to have to take her with us. Knock her out, Kirilov."

The front door opened, and the light switch flicked on, making the surreal, horrific scene sadly real in the harsh fluorescent light of the kitchen.

"I brought the... soup," Osaka said. She froze, and dropped her plastic bag. It landed on the kitchen floor with soggy thump.

Tomo left the deep, dark caverns of her madness to shout, "Run Osaka! Get out of here!"

Osaka stood still at the entrance of the kitchen, her line of sight not leaving Tomo's battered body.

Stavrogin grimaced. "Ms. Kasuga. We meet again." He turned to Shiggy, who was standing closest to her. "Kill her."


	20. Chapter 20

K crouched in the dark cave. There was no light expect what she pretended to see, and no sound but the faint trickling of water splashing on the mossy rocks. K was fine where she was; she didn't want to come out, and O didn't want her to come out. K was fine here, stumbling around in the dark, not seeing and not being seen.

Her self-imposed exile was spent peacefully, but recently she had strange dreams. These weren't dreams of sights and sounds, but dreams of actions and feelings. She would awake from these dreams with phantom sensations, as if she remembered actions she couldn't recall taking; only a memory of remembering. Her arms felt as if they had grabbed someone. She woke up gasping for breath, as if someone had landed on top of her. She looked at her hand here in the dark, and remembered pulling a trigger twice. K pushed these dreams aside and continued her silent existence.

One day, K heard scratching at the wall (Floor? Ceiling?) of her cave. She stumbled over to the sound and pressed her ear against the cold, clammy, smooth surface of the cave wall.

"O? Is that you?"

"K! I'm letting you out," O said.

"Stop!" K said. "I don't want to come out. You don't want me out. Let me stay here. There's water to drink and moss to eat. I'm fine!"

"I'm making a window, then," O said. "I want you to see something."

"I don't want to see anything, O!" K shouted, shielding her eyes. "It'll hurt my eyes." K moaned in fear. "This can't be happening!"

"You're right, it's not happening," O said, as the scratching sound grew into loud scraping. "It's an allegory for remembering. I'm human awareness and you're a neural network, see, except you were purposely repressed. So, I'm trying to connect you to the larger consciousness by creating synapses-"

"I know all that!" K shouted. "Stop digging!"

A crack appeared, and the digging stopped. Light as heavy as deuterium and as painful as birth poured through the crack. It was if it had taken physical form, knocked K to the ground, and pried her arms away from her face. Tears welled up at the edges of K's eyes as she peered through the light, as she peered through the gap.

She saw four men and two women. A woman O loved was on the floor, tied to a chair, screaming. A man O loved was on the floor, lying on his back, not moving. Four men and a woman K hated were looking at her, and K forgot why she was hiding. O did not have to pull her out, as K grabbed the sides of the crack and exerted herself to get through, where she landed in O's open arms. K remembered, and she joined O and O joined her, and

...

"Shiggy," Stavrogin said. "Kill her."

"Yeah boss," Shiggy said, as he pulled out his katana, hid in its sheath strapped to his back. The sword flowed like mercury as he sliced at Osaka's neck.

"Osaka!" Tomo screamed, her tranquilized vocal chords making her shout a dusty squeal. Her broken heart was like a sponge with the ocean washing over it. She could not possibly soak up any more despair.

She could only see the back of Shiggy, his long trenchcoat covering his sheath, and the sword traveled to the spot where it would meet the soft, tender flesh on Osaka's neck – and came to a sudden halt.

Stavrogin watched Shiggy and the unmoving sword with quickly growing irritation. "Shiggy, stop stalling and kill her."

"Boss," Shiggy said, in a damaged and broken voice, "we're in trouble."

Stavrogin jerked as the metallic snap of breaking metal pierced the air. Shiggy fell backwards as the broken section of his sword, hilt up, protruded from his neck. He gasped for air that wasn't coming, his eyes amused and surprised, like the eyes of an accountant finding a minor irregularity in a company invoice.

Standing over him was Osaka, her head bowed, her right arm covering her face as if she was praying into it. Between her thumb and her forefinger was the upper part of the blade, snapped in the middle, where Osaka stopped it from slicing through her neck.

She raised her blood splattered face and smiled at Stavrogin, goofy and blank as always. Tomo froze as she tried to process the major cognitive dissonance that, momentarily, halted her rage and grief.

"Well... shit," Stavrogin said.

"She's returned!" Shatov said, pulling out her own sword. "Kill her now!"

Like well-rehearsed choreography, Stavrogin, Pyotr, and Shatov brandished their swords and charged Osaka. Kirilov, however, pulled out a pistol, aimed it as his head, and pulled the trigger. His dead body fell backwards as his three comrades rushed at Osaka.

Tomo didn't have time to scream a warning when Osaka moved.

Osaka moved like Usain Bolt crossing the finish line. She slashed her broken sword like the Yojimbo attacking his enemies. Her free hand punched with the snap and precision of a prime Muhammad Ali. She kicked and jumped with the speed and verve of Bruce Lee. She treated the cramped and crowded kitchen as an opportunity to own the battlefield, and took the advantage from her attackers.

Tomo couldn't see much, her view of Osaka being blocked by the backs of her three remaining torturers. She saw blood, teeth, saliva, and lymph. She saw Stavrogin's quizzical expression as he watched his white goatskin-gloved hand leave his arm and sail into the wall, the platinum ring with the topaz chrysanthemum reflecting the sick fluorescent light. His head followed it shortly afterward. She heard the huge, hulking Pyotr gag, and saw him collapse, clutching his chest as blood pooled underneath him. The black catsuit clad Shatov didn't have time to scream as blood spurted from the back of her neck, splashing against the lights, now shining through crimson tint. She dropped her sword and stumbled to the ground, joining her comrades in death.

Standing amongst the carnage was Osaka, the broken piece of sword, now bloody, between her thumb and forefinger. Stillness pierced the air, a simple awe Tomo could not explain.

Tomo, lying on the floor, cuffed and shackled to the chair, watched as Osaka approached her. Osaka was covered in blood that wasn't hers, and most terrifying of all, had kept her dopey, open mouthed smile throughout the entire battle.

"O-Osaka?" Tomo said, as Osaka dropped her broken blade to push Tomo's chair upright. "Can you get me out of here?" She was doing everything she could to maintain her sanity, to reel in her screaming mind. Being unable to move, the body-racking pain and paralyzing humiliation of her beating, and... that which she didn't want to think about were all piling in on her shattered heart, and she was a step away from plunging into the abyss. "The keys should be in Stavrogin's pocket. The one you b-be... the one with the suit and vest."

Osaka obediently turned toward Stavrogin and dug through his pockets, pulling out a ring of keys.

"Yeah, that one," Tomo said, a whimper of desperation cracking her voice. "Unlock me Osaka!"

Osaka did her duty. Tomo's cuffs fell and her hands were free. She didn't rub her sore flesh, scraped raw by the metal, but swiped the keys from Osaka's hands. She unshackled her ankles and staggered up from the overturned chair. Her shirt, cut from the back, fell off of her body as she sprinted toward Rico's body, and she didn't bother to put it back on. She was careful not to trip over the dead as she approached Rico. The ointment Kirilov rubbed on her welts shined in the overly bright kitchen light.

Barely holding back a whimper, Tomo placed both hands on Rico's chest. He didn't budge. The heat of her hands radiated into Rico's cold body, but it would never find warmth again. Tomo slowly lowered her head until her forehead touched Rico's chest. Don't cry, she thought. I'll never stop. It'd be so easy to just let go but I can't, I can't, not now-

Osaka pulled out her cellphone and rapidly punched a series of buttons. Tomo turned around and watched her. "Osaka? What are you doing?"

Osaka mouthed something rapidly in English, and then snapped her phone shut, pocketing it. She turned her attention to Tomo, and Osaka's mouth closed and her eyes lost their glaze. She took a halting step toward Rico and slowly lowered herself to her knees.

Tomo watched Osaka as she inhaled deeply, sniffling. She turned toward Tomo and placed a hand on Tomo's bare shoulder. "You call Torako right now," Osaka said, her eyebrows slanted over her eyes and her lips pressed in seriousness. "Get the chief too. I'll call an ambulance for you."

"Who was that you called earlier?"

Osaka kept her serious expression. "I don't know."

"You don't know? It was something in English."

Osaka cocked her head. "I was speakin' English?"

Tomo managed to get herself away from Rico and groped for the kitchen phone, hanging on the wall. It was slick with blood, and Tomo repressed a gag as she called Torako and begged her to get over here, and call the chief. She hung up before Torako could question her.

Osaka clapped her hands over Rico and shut her eyes in prayer. She clapped her palms when she was finished, stood up, and bowed. She turned around, saw the dead, and yelped.

"What happened?" she said, her head darting from body to body, like a pinball knocked about by flippers. "There was murder here!"

Tomo, who was busy trying to get outside away from all this, stood at the kitchen door with her hand on the knob. She looked at Osaka and bit her lip before replying. "You don't remember?"

"This was me," Osaka said. Her head stopped darting from corpse to corpse, before slowing to a halt and staring at her feet. She looked up at Tomo with sadness.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"You saved me," Tomo said.

"But you're scared of me now," Osaka said. She whispered, "I'm scared of me, too."

Tomo let go of the door handle and stumbled over to Osaka. She kept her vision purposely high, eying to the top of Osaka's head. She absolutely did not want to see the corpse of her husband. She had to keep it together, or else she would go mad.

She took Osaka by the arm. "We have to get out of here. Let's sit outside while we wait for Torako to show up." She pulled Osaka with her toward the door.

"Wait," Osaka said. She pulled her arm away from Tomo's grasp and took off her leather coat. "Put this on, it's cold outside.

...

Tomo sat on the stoop with Osaka next to her. Below them was the parking lot guarded by a chain-link fence, and an empty street passing next to the building. Tomo wore Osaka's coat backwards, her bare back facing the elements. The chill wind felt good against it, and the crisp air was refreshing after the stagnant horror of her kitchen.

Osaka had clammed up once she sat down. Tomo thought she was in some sort of a trance, her mouth slightly agape and her eyes glazed thick, almost as if cataracts had shown up in seconds. Tomo grasped Osaka's face and pulled it toward her, but Osaka showed no reaction.

Tomo dipped back into the kitchen, quickly grabbing several towels from the drawer and wetting them under the sink. She used them to wipe the blood from Osaka's face, and from the coat Tomo was wearing now. This was a little thing to make her do something, to take care of someone even, and not have to dwell too long on what happened.

Tomo had cop training, cop experience, and her own strong personality to get her through any situation, although she couldn't vocalize it in those words. She had seen a lot of dead bodies in her lifetime, so she didn't freak out when it came to gore. Also, she was positive the drugs those goons had given her had done something to her, had dulled her senses and reaction. Her actions felt too ponderous, too deliberate, too calm to be real. She didn't think that maybe she was in shock, and the real pain was about to come.

She saw Torako's Fiat Panda pull into the parking lot below. Torako, brown leather fighter jacket and blue jeans, slammed the car door and ran upstairs, having seen Tomo and Osaka from the street. Tomo could hear her Doc Marten boots thud against the concrete stairs.

"Are you okay? What's going on?" Torako said, stopping on the stairs to face the two.

"In the kitchen," Tomo said, inadvertently tearing up.

Fear froze Torako's face. "Where's Rico?"

Tomo shut her eyes and shook her head.

Torako pushed through the gap between Tomo and Osaka and rushed into the kitchen. The light switched flicked on. A minute later Torako staggered out, and sat herself between Tomo and Osaka.

"I just saw your back," she said.

"I don't feel anything right now," Tomo said.

Torako put an arm around Tomo's shoulder. "Are you okay?" Torako said, groping for words. "What do you need me to do? I called the chief when I left, he should be here soon. We'll have to report this as a crime scene." Torako wondered if she should've said that.

"Call an ambulance," Tomo said. "I don't think Osaka got the chance to. Don't call the police. I think Osaka called her government contacts."

"What's wrong with the Big O?" Torako said, as she pulled out her cell phone and punched in the emergency service number. "She looks like she's in a waking coma."

"She's the one that killed those guys," Tomo said.

Torako displayed incredulous distrust as 119 answered on the other end. Torako quickly and efficiently gave the order for an ambulance, identifying herself as a police officer. 119 promised an immediate dispatch, and Torako hung up.

Torako pocketed her cell phone and put her arm around Tomo's shoulder again, careful not to hurt her. "I'm truly sorry, Tomo. Rico was a good man." Torako felt impotent, not knowing what words to choose, not knowing how to comfort her partner. "He was like my brother."

Tomo choked back a sob. "It hurts," she said.

Torako leaned her head on Tomo's head. "I know," she said.

Below, a black car pulled next to Torako's Fiat. Torako recognized it as a 1987 Buick GNX.

"I think that's one of Osaka's people," Torako said. "I guess big, black, old American muscle cars are their calling card, or something."

The door shut, and a shape Tomo and Torako couldn't make out ran toward the steps. A massive clattering like a herd of spooked sheep approached the three.

"Sweet Tea," a foreign man was saying in Japanese, "this better be good. I was watching _The Great Muppet Caper_ when you called, and it was the part where Sam the Eagle-"

The man, in a black suit, paused when he came around and caught sight of Osaka's face. "Oh snap," he said in English. He clamored up the rest of the steps and squatted in front of Osaka, staring into her eyes, as Torako and Tomo stared at him.

He spoke accented Japanese, in an accent neither Tomo nor Torako had ever heard before. It was if William Faulkner was about to record the speech he gave when he accepted his Nobel Prize in Literature, readying his talk in that Virginia piedmont accent, the old lilting speech of the extinct Southern aristocracy, but had swallowed copious amounts of amphetamines before opening his mouth. The man's Japanese was understood, but it was painful.

He put his hands on Osaka's face, and Torako stood up from the stoop, watching him.

"I smell blood," he said. "Did you kill some folks?"

"I showed them the life of the mind," Osaka said, before glazing over again.

"What's going on?" Torako said, put off by the familiar way the man touched Osaka's face.

"Anamnesis," the man said, standing up to look at Torako. "She forgot her amnesia. She's trying to process it now. Like Jesus when he got baptized, and the dove came down and he remembered his existence as God's son, right? He had to wander in the wilderness for forty days and nights to process it all. It won't take so long for Sweet Tea, but she's going to be biscuit for a while. Ate up in the head. I don't think Satan will show up, though. Where's the dead?"

Torako led him into the kitchen, and the man surveyed the damage. She left the door open so she could keep an eye on Tomo and Osaka. The cool night breeze flowed into the kitchen and mixed with the smell of murder. Torako watched Tomo shiver.

The man walked over to Stavrogin's head and turned it over. "Wakayama," he said. "Good."

"Who's that?"

"Assassin for hire. A master at brainwashing," the man said, dropping the head and standing up. "These other guys are his assistants, probably brainwashed too."

"Not him," Torako said, pointing at Rico. "That's Tomo's husband."

"Oh," the man said. He shook his head, and bent down over Rico's body. Torako tensed, resolving to jump him if he dared do anything disrespectful to Rico's body. He didn't make that mistake. "Who's the lady next to AK-47? Tomo Takino? The widow?"

"Yeah," Torako said.

He looked up at Torako. "I need to speak at her."

"She may not be up to it," Torako said, not wanting this man to harass Tomo about details.

"Understood," the man said, standing up. He looked back over at Wakayama and smirked. "Glad he's dead," the man said. "He's the one that killed AK's husband."

"Tell me what's going on," Torako said. She coolly produced a cigarette and lit up. "What was Osaka's real job?"

"Osaka?"

"Ayumu Kasuga," Torako said. "Sweet Tea. AK-47."

"Ah," the man said. "Fitting nickname. Anyway I'm Alekhine, her current government liaison and, I suppose you could say, comrade-in-arms." He held out his hand, but Torako didn't take it, staring at him with a bored expression.

"She translated documents for the American government," he said.

"Which department? NSA? CIA?"

"MJ-12," Alekhine said. "Long story short, and I'll let her tell it, I nabbed her when it became apparent MJ-12 were using her for their stupid Advanced Scout Program. Brainwashing her and stuff, repressing her personality, crap like that. That's pretty much why you don't ever want to work for any off-the-grid intelligence agency, ever. You constantly get psych evals and tested without knowing it, and if you match some preconceived notion about what would make a great test subject for this or that secret black program, well, they use you one way or another."

Alekhine coughed and moved toward the door. "Her husband got killed and she went nutso, which is around the time I picked her up. It was hard to figure her out, because she spoke in a string of random non-sequiturs, like the marmosets in _Faust_. Her words meant something, but not really. Weird as hell. Anyway, she disappeared shortly after the Tuned Incident, and ended up in Mexico. Came too, eventually, and contacted me."

Torako blew smoke from her nostrils as she eyed Alekhine, and removed her cigarette. "You're a liar," she said. "Majestic Twelve? I don't care if you think I'm stupid, Alekhine, but don't treat me like I am."

"Hey, it's not what you think it is," Alekhine said with a shrug. "Sometimes names from fiction or conspiracies are used for actual agencies to throw off their real purpose. The group I work with is YPS."

"YPS?"

"Yoyodyne Propulsion-"

"I've heard enough," Torako said. "And you can knock it off with the 'men in black' behavior. I'm not falling for it." She exited the kitchen.

"The 'Nats are going all the way next year!" Alekhine shouted. "We pennant now! Watch us, we'll be doin' thangs!"

...

An ambulance and chief Akiyama showed up shortly, and afterwards, representatives of Japan's Ministry of Defense, who worked closely with Alekhine and Osaka. They declared the kitchen a federal crime scene, and appointed chief Akiyama their police representative. He and Torako had gone around to Tomo's neighbors, knocking on doors and asking questions, and ending with a plea for them to stay in their apartments until the men carrying out the investigation left.

Tomo sat on the edge of the open ambulance, holding Osaka's coat to her chest, while a paramedic worked on her back. Another taped up the gash on her forehead caused by the porcelain teacup. Tomo refused to go to the hospital, and Alekhine and the Ministry of Defense reps backed her up. They felt it was too dangerous.

Osaka only spoke twice, the first time asking if she could have an Orange Julius, and the second time wishing she had a go-cart.

Torako moved over to chief Akiyama when the both of them had spare time, the chief from talking to the Ministry of Defense men, Torako from attending to Tomo while warily watching Alekhine with Osaka.

"I should've stopped this," Akiyama said. He watched Tomo fuss at one of the paramedics giving her a shot to denature the drugs in her system. The paramedics remarked on her incredible resistance to the drugs her torturers had given her.

"You couldn't have done anything, chief," Torako said, deciding not to start on another cigarette. "You didn't know."

The chief grunted and approached one of the MoD reps. Torako made her way over to Tomo, seeing now that Alekhine was going to ask her for details.

"Who now?" Alekhine said.

"Stavrogin," Tomo said. Her exhaustion showed through.

"Really? He called himself that? Who was the one that shot his brains out?"

"Kirilov," Tomo said. "Who cares?"

Alekhine laughed.

"What's so funny?" Torako said, approaching the two.

"Literary reference," Alekhine said. "Wakayama gave him the name so he could shoot himself. What a pretentious and impudent snob."

"Come here," Torako said, grabbing Alekhine by the hook of his elbow. She brought him around to the side of the ambulance, hidden behind the open hatch door, and released his elbow. She got close in his face and stared into his deranged brown eyes.

"Show some damn compassion," Torako growled. "She was tortured. Her husband was killed. She saw her oldest friend kill four people with little effort."

"Yeah, Osaka showed them the life of the mind alright."

Torako pushed him into the ambulance. "Shut up," she said. "Listen. I'm not going to put up with this USA spook behavior thing, so conduct your stupid investigation, take care of Osaka, but you respect my friends. Understand?"

"Of course," Alekhine said. "Now you listen to me. I got multiple personality disorder, okay? Except it's not one personality running me at a time, it's five at once. I got a Hex Knock Ego Controller keeping them in line, but it ain't perfect. Offendin' folks ain't my stick. You think I want to talk about crappy baseball teams and old muppet movies and Russian novelists while trying to take care of Sweet Tea and look at dead folks? Hell to the naw. Lay off and lemme do my job."

Alekhine ducked away from Torako and glided toward Osaka, who was standing in the middle of the parking lot, her blank look gazing at the moon as the chill air blew strands of hair across her face.

Torako grunted and walked toward the back of the van, where Tomo was standing. The paramedics had stopped fussing over her, and one was negotiating with the MoD to get her a visiting doctor.

On the second floor a parade of body bags exited the kitchen as gloved MoD men carried them downstairs to black vans waiting below. Tomo saw the procession, and dove into Torako's chest. Torako hugged her.

"I want to die, Torako," she said.

"I'm sorry," Torako said, again feeling worthless at her inability to say something, anything, to comfort her grieving friend. She bent down and kissed the top of Tomo's head, and Tomo choked out sobs that racked her body.

Torako was holding Tomo when she felt Tomo's body stiffen. She became heavy, and Torako was holding an unconscious Tomo. She looked up at the MoD people carrying out the dead, and at the end of the line, hanging out of a massive stretcher, was the brown-skinned arm of Tomo's dead husband.


	21. Chapter 21

Tomo woke into a thick and oily darkness flooding over her like tar. She was lying on her stomach in her bed, the sheets smelling fresh and clean, recently laundered. She was wearing a white t-shirt that felt clean and soft against her back. The clean sheets and clean t-shirt were important to Tomo, because it meant someone had made up the bed for her, and someone had dressed her.

She gingerly changed her position to lie on her back, and moaned as the pain crawled throughout her body. She was afraid to peer into the darkness, so her eyelids clamped shut, her eyes like children hiding behind their mother's skirt. Eventually, Tomo was able to blink and see her room.

Well, she saw darkness, anyway. She gave up and closed her eyes. She knew why she felt the way she did, but she didn't think about it. It was a weight that pressed against her mind, threatening to break through and suffocate her. She reached over to the other side of the bed before remembering that he wouldn't be there.

The air felt off in here, as if the familiar shapes and objects had something blocking their flow. Something... living. "Hello?"

"Hi," was the response.

"Osaka?" Tomo said. "I can't see you. It's too dark."

"You've been out for a day," Osaka said. Tomo tried to imagine her sitting down, her legs crossed lady-like. Probably wearing a dress, too. "You were in a waking coma. We got medicine we'd give you. I guess you don't remember taking it, huh?"

"No," Tomo said.

There was silence as Tomo struggled between saying something and simply going back to sleep. Eventually, Osaka said, "You making it?"

"I suppose," Tomo said. "Um, how about you?"

"I'm okay," Osaka said. Tomo heard fabric shifting, and imagined Osaka crossing her legs. "I got a lot I have to figure out and place. My brain has a bunch of puzzle pieces, right? I'm trying to put them together to make a picture. Maybe it'll be a sailboat."

"Osaka," Tomo said, breathing in the thick gloom. "We need to talk about that."

"Well, maybe it's just a rowboat."

Tomo's throat constricted with the weight seeping into her mind, so she pushed it back by trying to get outside of herself. "Osaka? What happened to you? I mean, if you can talk about it."

"I can talk about whatever you want," Osaka said. "Alekhine gave me the okay with you guys. But, I don't really remember a lot of it."

"How did... how did you end up this way?"

"Well, do you remember that civil test we took in college? The one to see if we could get a government job?"

Tomo dug into her memory and pulled out bits and pieces of their college years. "Was that the one where that jerk kicked me out for busting a paper bag when he sat down?" Tomo said. She grumbled. "How was I supposed to know it had his popcorn in it?"

"Didn't he tell you that when you grabbed it?"

"So? But go on, what about this test?"

"Well, I passed the test," Osaka said. "But I passed it weird."

Tomo tried to process this, and gave up. "What do you mean?"

"That test actually had some secret stuff in it," Osaka said, lowering her voice to a whisper, as if they weren't the only two in the bedroom. "They came to me afterwards and asked if I could take the second part of the test. I told 'em yeah."

"What was the second part of the test?"

...

Osaka sat on the metal chair in the interrogation room. In front of her was a table with two objects; a hat made of tin foil with wires poking out, and a glass containing water. In front of her, on the wall, was a two-way mirror. While Osaka couldn't see anything past the reflective surface of the mirror, the men conducting the test forgot to turn off the mic, letting Osaka hear their movement and murmurings.

"This is the latest batch. We got our best men working on it." "You think we can stump her?" "I hope not, she'd be perfect for the ASP."

"Ms. Kasuga," a voice said, cutting through the murmuring with authoritative force.

"Yeah? I mean, yes?"

"We'll begin the test now, if you are ready."

"Okay," Osaka said. "I don't have any pencils, though."

"It's an oral test," the voice said. "You may place the neuro-analyzer on your head."

"This thing here?" Osaka said, picking up a tin foil hat on the table. She placed it on her head and giggled. "I'm like the princess on that space train."

"Very good," the voice said. "We're getting readings. First question: How many two-cent stamps are in a dozen?"

"Twelve?"

"What's the one thing you always leave behind?"

"Footprints, right?"

"If there are five apples and you take away three, how many do you have?"

"Three," Osaka said.

"Is the glass on your table half empty or half full?"

"That depends," Osaka said. "It's half full if you filled it halfway, and half empty if it was full and you drank half of it."

Osaka overheard the murmuring from the speakers. "Extraordinary!" "These readings show she isn't reciting from memory, these are the first time she heard these questions." "Brilliant cognitive process perfect for the mental strains required of the ASP-"

...

"Wait just a minute," Tomo said. "Are you telling me, because you answered a bunch of riddles, they decided you were perfect for this scout program?"

"Well, they didn't say nothing about that," Osaka said. "They asked me if I'd like to teach Japanese in the United States for a summer. I mean, it's all bits and pieces now. I'm still putting together the puzzle. Maybe it'll be a house? Like one with a brick fence and a pond in the back. But the pond has those walking fish in it, and they keep breaking into the house..."

Tomo half listened to Osaka's description of her mental puzzle. She moved her head to where Osaka's voice was coming from - her left side, near the foot of the bed - but couldn't make anything out through the blackness. It was almost as if her bed was floating in space, with not even the light of the stars reaching her distant location. Tomo desperately wanted a light to be on. She reached over to her bed table, which memory told her was to her right, but she only swatted empty air.

"Osaka," Tomo said, trying to ground herself. "This was at the end of our second year, right? Right before the summer."

"Yeah," Osaka said.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was told not to talk about it."

"If you were going to teach Japanese in America, shouldn't you... you know... speak English?"

"I was thinkin' that too," Osaka said. "I asked them about it, but they said don't worry, they'd teach me English real quick-like."

"Did they?"

"I guess so," Osaka said. "The thing is, I don't remember any of it."

"Still some amnesia, huh?"

"No, it's like I didn't remember even back then," Osaka said. "They said, 'Hey, meet us here for a class.' Next day I'd wake up in our dorm room, and suddenly know some words in English."

Tomo wanted to shift her body again, but remembering the pain, laid still. "Really? You can't remember being taught?"

"Nope."

"Osaka. Didn't something tell you that was wrong?"

"Naw Tomo, I thought it was pretty neat. I was learnin' without having to study and whatnot."

Tomo sighed. This was Osaka, after all. "I remember the last time I saw you. We were finished with the second year and were getting ready to leave."

...

"Yomi, I know you're there," Tomo said into her phone. "I got this new swimsuit, right? I'm going to look sooo much hotter than you. Just wait!"

Tomo hung up the phone and giggled maniacally. She had been planning for the upcoming beach house meeting, a yearly tradition kept since her friends started college. A week at Chiyo's beach house was a pleasure indeed. While she and Yomi had met up with each other several times that year, she hadn't seen much of the rest of her high school friends, outside of emails. Chiyo was overseas, of course, but being properly brought up, she regularly emailed everyone, although Tomo noted with a green smirk that Sakaki and Osaka received hand-written letters.

Kagura, though, had gone into radio silence mode, being too busy training for her swimming competitions. Tomo saw the news concerning her accomplishments at the college swimming championships, winning the 100-meter breaststroke and the 200-meter freestyle, breaking the women's and men's collegiate record. She already had a spot on the Japanese Olympics female swimming team, and would be leaving Japan in two months to compete at the summer Olympics.

Tomo stumbled over her disorganized futon, hunting for the remote. Osaka's two suitcases were neatly packed and ready, although she took hours to pack everything to her standards. As far as Tomo knew, Osaka may just unpack everything again and repack it. Tomo's stuff was scattered all over the floor, and would haphazardly be stuffed into her suitcase at the last minute.

The door to the dorm room opened, and Osaka stumbled in. "Hey Osaka, help me pack, okay?" Tomo was going to bring up the beach house extravaganza, but her nostrils were violated, and she recoiled. "Ugh, what happened? You smell like an exploding compost heap!"

"Dumpster," Osaka said, shambling toward the shower. She pulled her shirt over her head.

"Don't you dare leave your stuff on the floor," Tomo said, following Osaka to the bathroom. "It's rank!" Osaka had already disrobed by the time she reached the shower, working the knobs in their tiny bathroom.

"Oh come on," Tomo said, grabbing the shower curtain and pulling it closed. "You'll get water everywhere!"

Tomo grabbed one of Osaka's belongings – a book with a blurry picture of a bullfight on the cover – and used it to push Osaka's foul smelling clothes into the bathroom. She slammed the door shut behind them.

Eventually, Osaka came out of the bathroom and stumbled toward their shared dresser, pulling on clothes with no thought of a theme or of a matching color scheme. Tomo was sitting on Osaka's futon – it was uncluttered – watching a screaming and sporadically violent duo perform on television.

"That's my shirt," Tomo said, changing a channel.

"Sorry," Osaka said. She didn't take it off, and sat down on the floor to put on her white and silver walking shoes.

Tomo mentally prepared herself for another Osaka moment, and turned off the television. "So. Osaka. What were you in a dumpster for?"

"Hidin'."

"From what?"

"Spies."

"Spies?" Tomo said, jumping to her feet. "What spies?"

"Spyin' spies," Osaka said, finishing up her other shoe. She stood up and faced Tomo, putting both hands on Tomo's shoulder. "They were chasin' me."

"Osaka?" Tomo said. Does she look... sad? Tomo couldn't believe it, but Osaka had the appearance of grim and resigned expectation, as if she knew something bad was going to happen that she couldn't stop or avoid.

"I gotta go, Tomo," Osaka said.

"Okay," Tomo said. "Get me a can of juice when you come back."

"Okay Tomo," Osaka said. She let go of Tomo's shoulders and left the dorm room.

"Huh," Tomo said. "What was that about?" She sat down and turned on the television. As soon as the smell hit her, Tomo groaned in realization that Osaka's clothes were still on the bathroom floor.

...

"Oh no!" Osaka said through the darkness. "I forgot your juice!"

"Heh heh, that was eight years ago," Tomo said. "I think the statute of limitations is up on that."

"I like the one of David myself."

"I didn't know you were leaving for good," Tomo said, charging through Osaka's non sequitur. "You didn't take any of your belongings with you. I called your parents, and they told me pretty bluntly that you had to leave on some personal reason. I mean, they never liked me anyway, but they were so curt about it."

"Someone visited them in person and told 'em I was undercover or something, and would probably be gone for a while."

"Why didn't you contact me, Osaka?"

Silence as deep as a deserted well flowed through the room. Quietly, Osaka spoke. "I can't describe it. I would look at a document and translate it. Then, I'd be watching something on TV in my apartment, but weeks would have gone by. This happened a lot. I lost so much time and I didn't even realize it. I can't understand it myself. I would think, 'Hey, I need to call my parents, or Tomo, or Chiyo,' but then next thing I knew, I'd be in a meadow somewhere. I mean, those two events would flow into each other, like I walked from one room to another, but months would be gone.

"One day, I was in a movie theater, watching a movie. I was the only one there, or I thought I was, anyway. You know those video games where you're, like, moving a gun around, or some hands?"

"Yeah, like _Half-Life 2_."

"Well, it was like that, but it went on for years."

Tomo leaned over again to hunt for the lamp at her bed table, waving her hand around. She gasped and jerked her hand back; she had touched something cold, clammy, and wet.

"Osaka, are we the only ones here? Could you turn on the light?"

"Yeah, it's just us," Osaka said. "I'm not allowed to turn on the light, though. They said the medicine they gave you makes you sensitive to pictures."

"Photosensitive," Tomo said. A powerful weariness overtook Tomo's body, and she blinked her eyes to keep from falling asleep. She wanted to hear Osaka's story. An errant thought stormed in and suggested that this wasn't Osaka, but Tomo shooed it away. I don't need any paranoia right now, she thought.

"There was like, no time in the theatre, but I knew it was a long movie," Osaka said. "There was some killing going on, lotsa shootin' and stabbin' and some runnin'. The talkin' would be in different languages, right? And there was this guy there, real good looking. Went with me on a lot of stuff. Turned out to be my husband."

"Hold on," Tomo said. "You're telling me you were watching yourself through a screen? Your actions?"

"Something like that," Osaka said. "It was my body moving around, but I wasn't in it. I was just watchin' it in a movie theatre. But the thing is, I wasn't alone in the theatre. Up at the front there were two guys. I would try looking at them, but they wouldn't be there no more. But, when I looked back at the screen, I could see 'em in sideways. They weren't watching the show. Their chairs were turned around, and they were watching me.

"Anyway, the part of the movie came up where her... I mean, my husband got killed. It was awful, and I decided I didn't want to be there anymore. I got out of my seat and tried to get out of the theatre, but the exit was boarded up. I couldn't pull the boards out. I ran down to the bottom where the men were, but they wouldn't be there. I tried pulling chairs out, but that wouldn't work. The film was frozen on... on his dead face. The soundtrack was a buzzing getting louder and louder. I was going crazy in there, Tomo.

"But there was this one loose chair, the one I sat in. I kept pushing it and kicking it, nonstop, and it finally got loose. I picked it up and tried throwing it at the projector, but I couldn't throw it that far. I started crying and laughing because I was losing it.

"So I got this idea to throw the chair at the screen, instead. I put a tear in it, but it didn't stop the movie. Behind the screen was just wall, so I couldn't get out that way. Each time I threw it, though, those two guys in the theatre got clearer and clearer, I mean, more solid. I could see them clearer is what I'm trying to say. They were standing up and yelling something at me, but I couldn't hear it over the buzzing. So, when I could see them real good, I acted like I was going to throw the chair at the screen again, but, at the last second, I threw it at them. It hit them hard, and everything went black. Next thing I knew, I was in Mexico-"

"Eating a chicken taco," Tomo said, her voice sounding loud and booming next to Osaka's quiet narration. "Five months later."

"Six years had passed," Osaka said. Tomo gave up the battle to stave off sleep, and stopped fighting against her mutinous eyelids. She mumbled, "I'm about to fall asleep."

At the border of the empire of sleep, when human awareness dips below the border of consciousness, during the hypnogogic stage when the inside and the outside become jumbled, Tomo heard a voice like Osaka's say, "Sorry, I lied."

...

Tomo woke up into uncomfortable brightness. Her eyes clamped shut and she did not try to open them. The sun blasted through her blinds, and she couldn't make out her room due to the light flooding and stabbing her eyes. She moaned in pain and turned over, patting the other side of the bed before remembering he wasn't going to be there.

"Tomo?" a voice said.

Tomo turned back over and faced the source of the voice. "Torako?" Tomo blinked her stinging eyes, tears pooling at the corners. "I can't see you. It's too bright."

"It's morning," Torako said. She cleared her throat. "You feeling okay? Getting along?"

Tomo snorted a laugh. "I guess," she said. "Don't hurt as much. You?"

"I'm fine," Torako said. "Called my mom. Made her go stay with my uncle. Just to be safe."

"Hmm," Tomo said. She moved her arm over her eyes to shield it from the light.

"I called your parents," Torako said.

"Heh, say no more. I already know how that went."

"Yeah."

Words built up in Tomo's heart. She held them back, but decided to let them out. Torako wouldn't make fun of her.

"I only wanted to be happy, Torako. How'd it end up this way? I don't think I'll ever be happy again."

A chair scooted forward and rubbed against the carpet.

"I'm not good at comfort," Torako said. "But I'll listen."

"That's fine," Tomo said. "Are you happy?"

"No," Torako said. "Never have been."

Tomo moved her arm off of her face and rolled over to her right side, facing away from the window. "Really? I don't know how you can stand it, then."

"Happiness has never been a life goal with me," Torako said. "Other things were more important."

"Like what?"

"Loyalty to friends and loved ones," Torako said. "Not being in debt to anyone, and no one being in debt to you. Neither leading nor following. Thinking for yourself. Living by your own rules."

"That sounds hard."

"It is," Torako said. "You're constantly reminded of your own shortcomings, and the shortcomings of others. It's a race no one ever wins. If you aren't careful you can become a misanthrope, or commit suicide."

"Geez Torako," Tomo said. "You're so weird."

"Yeah," Torako said.

"What should I do?" Tomo said. "How do I find happiness now?"

"I heard that a secret to happiness is being content with what you have," Torako said. "Not reaching for what you can't get."

"You think that's true?"

"Dunno," Torako said. "It sounds like selling out to me."

"Happiness," Tomo said. "Stimulation, entertainment. Those are my goals. Kinda selfish, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Hey!"

Tomo could see Torako shrug, even though her eyes were shut tight through the bright morning sunlight. "But so what? Anyone who lives by some kind of rigid life code, some code that defines who and what you are, is going to be selfish. There's differing degrees of selfishness, you know. The depth of our dealings with other people depend on how high a level of selfishness we can tolerate in them."

Tomo ruminated over this, trying to get the deeper sense of what Torako meant. Tomo didn't consider this a secret to living, but a secret to how Torako thought and operated.

"Listen, there's something else I need to tell you," Torako said. "About Rico's family."

"Go ahead."

"His brother came and got Rico's body," Torako said. "He took it back to Brazil for burial. His family made it pretty clear that they don't want you involved."

"That doesn't surprise me," Tomo said. "They never did like me."

"I'm sorry," Torako said. "I would've stopped it if I was there, but this is all through customs."

"It's okay Torako," Tomo said, rushing the subject along. "Anything else going on? With work or whatever?"

Torako explained that they were on paid administrative leave while Tomo recuperated. However, the chief told them off the record that the two of them would have to report in as soon as Tomo could move around. Torako described him as being cagey about it. She also said the Ministry of Defense had their goons scoping out the apartment building, watching for any future attacks. Tomo's five torturers were traced back to an assassin-for-hire group based in Sendai. Torako repeated what Alekhine had told her, about Wakayama being an expert brainwasher.

Osaka was also discussed. The Ministry of Defense was indeed looking out for her all this time, and as the chief had suspected, the building where her taqueria was located was given to her as a gift. Many of the chief's questions about Osaka were simply answered by the phrase, "government assistance."

"They're the ones who pushed through her application," Torako said. "Civilian assistant to the police. It sounds to me like they were trying to make up for allowing her to be used in those American experiments."

The other mystery was brought up: Why Tomo simply wasn't killed.

"We don't get that," Torako said. "This is the second time they could've killed you, but, once again, they make some theatrical production out of it. I threw around Oda Otomo's name, but he's pretty much untouchable. If there's no proof, we can't do anything."

"I don't care anymore," Tomo said.

"Don't worry," Torako said. "We'll find our proof. We'll nail his hide to the wall, one way or the other."

"Torako," Tomo said. "I don't care."

Tomo rolled on her back, and tried pulling the sheets over her eyes. That stifled her breathing, so she put her arm back over her eyes.

"Sorry," Torako said. "I shouldn't be talking about it."

"I'm off the case," Tomo said. "I don't want to do it anymore."

A suffocating silence that couldn't be cleansed by the sunlight settled in the room. Then, Torako said, "We'll discuss that later."

"Torako," Tomo said, raising her voice. "My husband is dead! He was killed by people because of this stupid case! I don't want to do it anymore!" The waters crashed down, and all the anger and grief Tomo was holding back broke through the levee. "It's you stupid case anyway. I don't care about Asagi Ayase, she's just another dead gangster. Good riddance, I say."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Torako said, her voice tight, her words slow. "But I have a duty to my friends-"

"I'm your friend!" Tomo said. "Where's your duty to me? You... you're responsible for Rico getting killed."

"Tomo? Listen to me."

"I don't want to hear it," Tomo said. Tears stung her eyes, and two trails flowed down her cheeks. "I bet you didn't even shed a tear over Rico. Osaka had the decency to pray over him, but I bet you don't even care. You just care about your stupid case."

"That's not fair, Tomo," Torako said. A growl entered her voice. "I'm sorry for bothering you about this. It's okay, I can work this case alone."

Tomo sat up in bed. She opened her eyes and hunted for Torako through the bright sunlight, but her eyes filled with tears from pain.

"If you knew Rico was going to get killed," Tomo said, "would you have still taken this case?"

The pause for an answer. The pause stretched, and passed. Torako said nothing.

"Get out," Tomo said. "I don't want to see you again. Get out! He's dead because of you!"

"Tomo-"

"Shut up," Tomo said. She rolled over and put her head on her pillow, her face constricting as tears pooled below. "Get out! We're through Torako, get out." She repeated it many times, long after Torako had already left.

...

Tomo woke up into soft, gentle, late afternoon light, and decided she had enough of lying in bed.

No one was in her room, which was glowing amber from the setting sun. She blinked, looked toward her left, and saw her bed table with the lamp.

She got out of bed and staggered to the bath, taking her time with her cleaning. She was sore and stiff, but the pain was manageable now. After washing herself, she soaked in the bathtub, the steam filling each crevice and corner with its haze. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, but Tomo was too comfortable in the hot water and steam. She knew she had to eat, though, so she regretfully left her hot bath, toweled off, and dressed herself.

She entered the kitchen, sunlight streaming through the window above the sink. She stopped when she saw the silhouette against the light, sitting in a kitchen chair, reposed like the queen of the afternoon.

"Sakaki?"

"Hello, Tomo," Sakaki said, as she stood up. Her long black hair fell from her shoulders, and the light cast a royal purple halo around her head. "Are you feeling better? It was my shift."

"Shift?"

"To watch over you."

"Oh," Tomo said, as she walked toward the fridge. The kitchen was clean, and did not smell like death. "Um, thanks."

"You're welcome," Sakaki said. Tomo pulled out a carton of umeboshi to eat with her rice. She checked the rice cooker and found that it was full.

"May I... help?" Sakaki said.

"No thanks, I got it," Tomo said, as she pulled a bowl from the cabinet. She turned to face Sakaki, who was sporting a severe, searching look, as if she was studying a radar display for enemy vessels.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Sakaki said.

"Th-thanks," Tomo said. She put her bowl on the table a little too hard, and it clattered loudly against the wood. I was tied here and beaten... she pushed back the thought and tried to eat.

"Do I need to get you anything, Sakaki?"

"No thank you," Sakaki said, pulling up a chair at the table. Tomo kept her head low over her bowl as she shoveled food into her mouth. She could feel Sakaki watching her. She didn't let that interfere with her ravenous appetite, and so she finished her meal.

She put the bowl in the sink and heard Sakaki leave her chair. She was putting up the carton of umeboshi.

"You don't have to do that," Tomo said.

"No, it's fine," Sakaki said.

Tomo walked toward the phone. "I, uh, need to call the chief," she said. She rang up the office, and was answered in the middle of the second ring. After asking how she was doing, the chief asked when she could be in. Tomo, with a secret glance at Sakaki, told him she could be in now.

"Thanks for your help, Sakaki," Tomo said, as she hung up the phone. "I need to get to the office right away."

"I'll take you," Sakaki said, approaching the floor mat to put on her shoes.

"Oh, that's okay, I can take the bus."

"I insist," Sakaki said, and she met Tomo with a severe, hard stare, as if angry.

Tomo gulped. "Okay, you can take me."

...

Sakaki's Honda Legend was probably the nicest car Tomo had been in for a while. She sat carefully on the leather seat and turned on the seat warmer, and felt the warmth enter into her back. She could fall asleep again if she wasn't careful.

Sakaki was silent, keeping her frown focused on the streets. Tomo shifted in her chair occasionally, glancing at the inbuilt GPS to see how long until they reached her office.

"I feel pity for you," Sakaki said.

Tomo squirmed and wished she had taken the bus.

"That was out of nowhere," Tomo said, getting hot from either the seat or the comment. "Hey, you can let me off here if it's not too much of a bother-"

"I accept your apology," Sakaki said.

Tomo's jaw dropped. "What apology?"

"Remember, when you were in my clinic, and I was making coffee. You apologized to me. Thank you, I accept."

Tomo studied Sakaki as if she was a biology specimen. "I appreciate that," she said. "But why?"

"I got to see Osaka again," Sakaki said. A smile crept on her lips, and the flesh around her jawbone softened. "You could've kept it secret from me, but you didn't."

"So you got to see her," Tomo said, frozen.

"Yes. I didn't tell her anything."

"Eh? What's there to tell? There's nothing to tell, come on, that's crazy Sakaki." Tomo began fidgeting, rapidly tapping her heal like she was hitting the kick drum in a metal band. "And what's this about pity? I don't need your pity."

"Why not?" Sakaki said.

"Um... well..."

"Are you saying that just because they say it in movies?"

"Urk, got me," Tomo said.

"Pity is a type of love," Sakaki said. "Love is a rare, precious commodity, and the most important substance in the world. We should cherish it when it's showed to us, no matter what form it takes. When people think about love, they only think about the romantic love in songs, but there's so much more. Affection, fondness, compassion, kindness, all important."

Where the hell was this coming from, Tomo thought. She blushed deeply, and if pressed further, would open her door and jump out. "I had love, Sakaki," Tomo said. "A great love. It's gone, and I only feel empty and hurt. I wish I never had it."

"I'm sorry," Sakaki said. "I'm making you uncomfortable. I can't imagine what you're going through."

"I'm glad you can't," Tomo said, and she crossed her arms and turned her head toward the window. Sakaki saw this, and knew it meant the conversation was over.

...

Sakaki pulled up in front of the Kojimachi police station, and Tomo jumped out before Sakaki had pulled to a stop.

"Tomo," Sakaki said.

Tomo turned around and approached Sakaki, her window rolled down. Sakaki handed her a card.

"This has my phone number and home address. Call me anytime."

"Th-thanks," Tomo said, cradling the card in her hands like a precious jewel.

"I have to get back to my clinic now. Will you be okay?"

"Sure, don't worry," Tomo said, mustering up as much bravado as she could. It was a pitiful, false effect, and she knew it. Sakaki probably knew it too, but she didn't say anything. "I'll catch a bus. Thanks for dropping me off."

"You're welcome," Sakaki said. "Goodbye now."

...

Tomo stepped into her floor and all conversation halted. She paused and surveyed her co-workers as they tried to pretend she wasn't there. She didn't find Kazumi.

"Hi, I'm back," Tomo said. "Remember me? I work here?" This brought a glance or two, but no one greeted her.

"Well, that's just great," she said. "I'm not here to talk to you jerks anyway." She strode toward the end of the office to the chief's private office, and opened his door. It didn't take long for her to realize that it no longer felt like the chief's office. His giant, ancient phonograph machine was gone, for one thing.

The chief sat in his chair, and stood up to greet Tomo. This was fine, but the man standing behind him sneered at her. It was Hayakawa, the 'cheap brat of a detective' that harassed her at the Ueno park koban. In one of the guest chairs Tomo saw the back of Torako's head.

"Sup chief," Tomo said. "You got some kind of ugly looking growth coming out of the carpet there. Need me to get the pruning shears?"

"How about you sit down, Ms. Takino? Give your mouth a rest?" Hayakawa said. He grinned widely. "You can do that, right?"

"You're not my boss, so don't tell me what to do."

"Takino," the chief said, his voice hollow and weak. Tomo nearly jumped at how tired he sounded. "Please have a seat."

"Uh, sure chief." Tomo said. She walked toward the two guest chairs and saw Torako dressed in black slacks and a blue dress shirt.

"Hey," Torako said. "You okay?"

Tomo ignored her as she sat down.

"Okay," the chief said. "Let's make this quick." He faced Torako first. His face, formally craggy and granite-like, sagged for the first time in his life. He had undergone a transformation of age and a weakening of spirit that was apparent in his movement and appearance. It was painful to see if you knew what he was like. Torako's stomach flipped, but she did see a glimmer of hope; his eagle eyes still gleamed.

"You've been placed in a new assignment," the chief said. He lowered his eyes. "You've been reassigned to the Traffic Bureau."

Torako leaned forward. "Chief, what's this about? I'm back driving interceptors again?"

"No," the chief said. "You're in the parking infraction section."

Hayakawa snickered. "You're a meter maid," he said.

"Chief!" Torako said. "This is bullshit. Why am I being moved? I'm fine where I am."

"Disciplinary reasons," Hayakawa said. "Insubordination and flaunting of department dress codes."

Torako slammed her fist into the arm of her leather chair. "I'm being railroaded! I know what's going on here! It's because of Asagi-"

"Torako," the chief said, his voice pleading. "Please let me get through this."

Breathing heavily, Torako leaned back into her seat. It was a rare outburst of emotion for her, and she felt exhausted.

"Takino," the chief said, as gently as he could make his voice sound. "You've been let go."

Tomo sat calmly and quietly. Torako looked at her with widening eyes.

"Let go," Tomo said. "That means fired, right?"

"Yeah," the chief said.

"Oh, okay," Tomo said. "Thanks for the clarification there, chief."

Hayakawa smiled. "See? That's the kind of cooperation I like to see. An excellent demonstration of self-control."

Tomo jumped from her chair and slashed her arm across the top of chief Akiyama's desk, slamming pens, pencils, notepads, card holders, and other assorted items onto the floor.

"You asshole!" She shouted. She tried to crawl over the desk, but Torako grabbed her from behind. "How dare you do this to me!"

"Takino," the chief said, holding up his hands.

"After what I've been through? This is the worst!"

"It's not from me," the chief said. "Today is my last day."

Tomo stopped struggling. "What?"

"Hayakawa has been promoted," he said. "Transferred from the Ueno district, and as of today, the new superintendent of the Kojimachi district."

Tomo realized Torako was holding her, and elbowed her in the gut. Torako gasped for air and doubled over, holding her stomach. She fell and sat on the floor, her face contorted with pain and the struggle of breathing.

Tomo flashed her a look of rage. "Never touch me," she said.

The chief sat, stunned and bewildered. Hayakawa laughed. "Trouble in paradise? Either way, this meeting is over. Torako, your new orders will be delivered to you tomorrow. Tomo, clear out your desk, and two security guards will escort you out of the building. Mr. Akiyama, I believe you have my seat."

"There's nothing I want here," Tomo said, as she stormed out of the office. "Throw my stuff away, I don't care," she shouted behind her. "It's all useless anyway!"

...

Torako kept an unadorned desk, and her belongings fit into two boxes. Akiyama was helping her put them in the back of her car when he went ahead and told her that she would be moved to the Kanda district.

"You won't have an office," he said. "Just a locker in a locker room. They wanted to fire you too, and this is the best I could do. At least you still have a badge." He leaned forward. "You technically aren't a detective anymore, but that writ ex nihilo still stands. The high court is reviewing it though, so you might not have much time left."

Torako shut the hatchback to her Fiat. "Thanks for everything, chief." Torako smirked. "I can't call you that anymore. Mr. Akiyama, then."

"Saneyuki will do," he said. "Well, I guess this is it. I didn't keep it much of a secret that you were my favorite. It was pleasure working with you Torako." He held out his hand.

Torako hugged him instead. "Thanks," she said, her voice muffled by his jacket. "Me too." Akiyama patted her on the back, and Torako kissed him on the cheek.

"Oh come on," Akiyama said, smiling despite himself. "I don't deserve all that."

They broke their hug. "May I keep in touch, chief?" She let out a short, clipped laugh. "Sorry, old habits."

"Sure you can," he said. "You might as well keep calling me chief anyway. It'll make this easier, I think. Listen, I'm sorry about Tomo, you don't deserve to be treated that way."

"Yeah," Torako said, as she went to light up a cigarette. She looked away from Akiyama. "She'll work it out," she said, quietly.

...

Tomo walked up the stairs to her apartment. She dreaded it, and it made her feel sick to think about being alone in there, in a place so full of Rico and their life together. It wasn't his ghost, but Tomo's memories of him that haunted their apartment.

She stood in front of the door with her key out, and pocketed it. I'm going to have to find a new place to stay. And a new job, she thought grimly. Her first thought was to hit up Osaka for a job. Maybe she can help me out.

She walked the few steps to Osaka's apartment, and saw that her door was ajar. Thinking Osaka had forgotten to close it behind her, Tomo stepped in.

Osaka's apartment was empty. All of her books and furniture were gone. The knickknacks in the kitchen, giving it a nested, distinctly Osaka feel, were gone. Tomo checked out the entire apartment, all that was left was bare carpet and tile floor.

Tomo turned on all the lights, trying to see if Osaka left some note for her, but none was found. She shut the door and stood outside the door to her own apartment. She took a deep breath, turned around, and ran down the stairs toward the bus stop.

...

The bus dropped Tomo off at the stop, and she ran toward the taqueria. She knew something was wrong. There wasn't the sound of conversations, or that oompah-oompah Mexican music Osaka was always playing, what she called narcocorrido. There were no lights, and no delicious smells.

"Oh come on," Tomo said under her breath. The taqueria was deserted. A sign had been taped into the window, and it said, "Coming soon: Another great Magnetron Burger establishment!"

Tomo stood in front of the sign and stared for a long time. She could have, theoretically, started crying, but she had used up most of her tears the previous two nights. Instead, she took out her lock picking kit and, after some violent jiggling, went inside.

She walked through the empty, dark restaurant. Even the stove had been removed, probably to fit the new Magnetron grill. She took the stairs to the roof.

The late afternoon had given way to early evening, and the sun was in the process of slowly setting. The greenhouse itself, once a jungle of herbs and vegetables, was gone. Not even leaves were left. She closed her eyes and inhaled. She could still smell the cilantro and chilies.

"So I didn't dream it," she said.

Tomo walked to the middle of the roof and laid down on the concrete surface. She watched the clouds pass by, darkening amber to blue to black as the sun finally set.

"What am I going to do now?"

...

Akiyama knew what he was going to do now, and he had to do it quick.

After Torako left, he rushed to his bank and requested his safe deposit box. He was allowed into the guest room where the box was delivered. He removed the papers from the box and asked for a folder, which was provided him. At the bottom of his safe deposit box, underneath the papers, was a ring, a platinum ring with a topaz chrysanthemum. He stuffed it in his pocket. He thanked the bank officer and walked outside.

At a drain on the sidewalk, Akiyama pulled out his ring and dropped it in. It clinked against the metal grate before making a satisfying splash below. He then walked to the nearest post office, where he requested an envelope that could fit the papers he had. He placed them in carefully, sealed the envelope shut, and wrote Torako's mailing address on the front. He did not put a return address. He paid postage, including insurance, and watched as the envelope was carried to the back, to be sorted, filed, and delivered. Deciding it was out of his hands now, he left the post office.

He pulled out his cell phone and started to punch in a number that he had long since memorized, but had rarely called. He got halfway through it, stared at the number, and closed the phone. People have caller ID nowadays, he thought. He'll know it's me.

He walked to a payphone, paid his fee, and dialed the number. It answered after two rings.

"Hello?"

"It's me," Akiyama said.

A long pause. Then, "What do you want, dad?"

"Checking up on you," he said. "How are you? How's Kira and the kids?"

"Why do you care? You're not drunk, are you?"

"No, not drunk," Akiyama said. He was too happy at hearing his son's voice to get angry at the slur. "I just wanted to see how everything's going."

"I'm changing my number," the voice said.

"Son, wait," but the line clicked and the dial tone flooded his hearing.

He hung up the phone, paid his fee, and dialed again. The answering machine picked up. Akiyama opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and hung up the phone. I deserve this, he thought.

He made his way to his car. He was no longer caring what happened to him. What he thought about was Miruchi Inoue, the girl murdered at the beach house. He had sold his soul to save Tomo, and in the process made like Pilate and washed his hands of what happened to that young girl. I have to atone, he thought, but he knew he didn't have time.

He drove on toward his apartment in the Nerima district, taking his normal route, mostly old streets hardly in use, and remembered hugging Torako, her surprisingly shapely beanpole body pressed against him.

Knock it off, he thought with a self-deprecating smirk. I'm old enough to be her father. Hell, her father's older brother. Besides, she doesn't swing that-

The terrible grinding of metal invaded his thoughts as the front of his car caved in. He felt something smash against his leg, and by the time thought caught up with what had happened, his car was totaled and oceans of blood poured out of his left leg.

He slapped himself to keep from passing out, and struggled to get out of his car. The edges of the world went hazy and he saw in slow motion. He slapped himself again, and looked at his leg. It was crumpled and was more like strips of flesh hanging off of bone and muscle, and then the pain started.

He staggered toward the car that hit him, which had its front right fender smashed in. The driver staggered out.

"Are you okay?" the driver said. His eyes widened when he saw Akiyama's leg. "Lay down! I'll call an ambulance immediately." The cramped street wasn't busy, but the inhabitants of the residential apartments bordering the street opened their window and peered at the metal carnage below.

"Don't have long," Akiyama said. "Artery open. Where's the second car?"

The driver made a confused look, but it was too practiced, too theatrical. "Second car? I was the only one that hit you."

"Don't play dumb," Akiyama said. "I know how this goes. Old Yakuza trick. The first car gets him out in the open, the second one kills him. Hit and run. So, where's the second car?"

The driver slowly smiled. "It's coming," he said. "Most people try to fight this. I'm glad you're accepting it."

"What car is it? I want to face it."

"Black Toyota Crown," the man said.

"Thanks," Akiyama said. He pulled out his revolver and shot the driver three times. The driver barely had time to register surprise when he fell on his back, dead. Akiyama heard screaming and windows slamming shut.

"Idiot," Akiyama muttered. "Like I'm accepting any of this."

He staggered out to the middle of the street and tried to remember what he was doing. Get it together, he thought, as he looked at his revolver. You don't have long, make it count. I'm missing three bullets. Do I need to reload? I need to reload. He dug in his pocket and pulled out three bullets with his shaky hand, and started loading the empty chambers. He heard an engine rev, or he thought he did, farther down the street. He wondered if he would die of blood loss before the car reached him.

"Hold on," he said.

"That's right son!" his dad said. "Make your stand!"

"Go away dad," Akiyama said. "This is my moment."

"Okay Saneyuki," his dad said, as he sunk back into the ground. "I'm proud of you. I'll see you soon!"

"I hope not," Akiyama muttered. "I smell brimstone on you." He loaded the final bullet, raised his revolver, and fired at the Toyota Crown.

I wish I could say something profound, he thought. About how the world is a wonderful place, and worth fighting for, but all I can think about is what an awesome show _Butane Negri_ was. I can't believe they cancelled in in the middle of the second season. How stupid. Wait, that's from my childhood.

"Keep it together," he said, as he fired his gun. He let a thought flit to Torako and he felt pain in his heart.

All six shots hit the windshield. The car didn't stop.


	22. Chapter 22

Danube Fujita wanted to be a writer. He read _A Moveable Feast_ many times, and believed every word it said. After graduating high school, he sold what little belongings he had and bought a plane ticket to Paris, Texas. After realizing his mistake, he worked as a dishwasher in a soul food restaurant for two months, saved his money, and bought a plane ticket to Paris, France.

He visited all the famous writerly places, the cafés Hemingway mentioned in his stories (now crowded with tourists), the Café de Flore where Camus ate, the _Shakespeare and Company_ book store where James Joyce sat, even the house of Gertrude Stein, whose work he found incredibly tedious.

Danube didn't write anything, though. Well, he wrote scraps of stories in cafes before drinking more than his thin body could handle, and partying the rest of the time. Eventually, he became a full time drinker and reveler, with his dream of being a writer only a guilt-inducing memory to be quickly pushed aside.

One morning, waking up in a jail cell with nothing but his urine-drenched clothes, his expired visa, and his recently acquired chlamydia, Danube tearfully called his parents and asked for a ticket home. The writer's life, he decided, wasn't for him.

He also decided that owning a strip club wasn't for him either, but he couldn't so easily get out of that one. It was only fifteen years later (Danube is now thirty-six), but his harsh lifestyle made him look far older. His pack-a-day cigarette habit didn't help, either. He had a gaunt, cavernous face, yellow fingernails, aggressively baggy eyes, puckered lips, a perpetual five o'clock shadow, and graying hair. He lived hard and looked it.

On top of all that, the _Steam Donkey_ wasn't supposed to be a strip club, it was supposed to be a jazz club. It turned into a strip club through some occluded process Danube couldn't trace or connect, somehow involving a former girlfriend, gangster connections, and a zonal redistricting.

So, he ran a strip club. He "ran" it in that he would come in to cut checks and give the local Yakuza their share, make sure the drinks were tasty and the girls were treated well, work in the kitchen during the slow hours, and then hang outside the alley, smoking and trying to extinguish all rational thought.

Most of his employees were young college students paying their way through college, either through stripping or through being waitresses. Weirdly, most of them were women's studies majors. He decided they were doing research, and left it at that. Ultimately, he didn't care.

Two people didn't fit that mold, though; his bartender, a Russian expatriate that Danube strongly suspected of being former Spetsnaz, and the newest hire, a woman who mixed manic extroversion with freshly minted bitterness, all on a foundation of petulance. She worked prep in his kitchen. She was the reason he came to work more often.

Not that he was attracted to her – she wasn't his type – but she made things interesting. Her whole personality and outlook was different than what he was used to. Then there was the brewing drama.

For reasons Danube couldn't understand, Yuka, his most popular stripper, took an instant dislike to her. He expected it to boil over at any moment, and he wanted to be there to see it.

He was pulling yakisoba out of the fryer when he inhaled deeply to help steady his nerves, and turned to his prep cook, who was chopping a pork loin.

"Tomo-"

"No," she said, without looking up.

"You don't even know what I was going to say," he said. "I may have been asking if you want a raise."

Tomo pointed her knife at him. "What, a one yen raise? That's all you can afford in this dump. You spend our raises on cigarettes." She put down her brush and battered the pork loin with egg. "I know what you wanted, anyway. You need me to be a waitress today."

"Bingo."

"I'll pass," she said. "I'm not going out there with those perverts."

"Come on Tomo," Danube said rolling his eyes. "You work in a strip club. Surely you would've gotten over your squeamishness by now."

Tomo dropped the brush in the egg yolk, which splattered thick and yellow on the stainless steel prep table. She marched to Danube and folded her arms.

"I get off an hour early."

"Oh come on!" Danube said.

"You come on," she said. "I've been here ten straight. An hour early."

"Okay," he said. "Get this yakisoba over to table 4, and grab a Manhattan from Kleon and take it over to Yuka's stage. Do that, you get off an hour early."

Tomo wiped her hands on her apron. She took it off and draped it over Danube's head. "You're a pervert, too," she said, as she grabbed the tray with the yakisoba.

She grabbed the drink from Kleon, placed it on the tray, and delivered the yakisoba to a fat middle-aged man before bringing the drink to Yuka's area. Yuka was a college student, majoring in political science. Tomo walked in the midst of the men, in their own world of lust and desire. "Yeah, whose drink is this? Three seconds or it's mine."

"I ordered it," one of the men said, his shiny perm reflecting the walkway lights.

She put the drink and food in front of the permed man, and stared up at the pole dancer. She cupped her hands. "Hey Yuka, you lost your shirt," she said, "Your boobs are all hanging out and these men are staring at them."

Yuka quit working the pole long enough to display her middle finger.

"Hey, you're married," she said, pointing to a man at the far side of the table. "Does your wife know you're here?"

"Hey Danube!" The man shouted, covering his wedding ring with his other hand. "Do you mind?"

Danube marched toward Tomo and took her by the arm. "Come on Tomo, throw me a bone here." He dragged her back to the kitchen. "Do you have to make everything so difficult and dramatic?"

"Hey, you guys see that?" Tomo shouted. "A man is touching me without having to pay for it! I bet that never occurred to any of you, huh?"

Tomo was booed and hissed until she was dragged back into the kitchen.

"Heh heh, what a bunch of losers."

"They keep us in business," Danube said, letting go of Tomo's arm. "And what's the deal between you and Yuka? You two know each other?"

Tomo shrugged. "Beats me. I like how you purposely made me go over to her pole. You're just trying so hard to start something."

Danube stammered a denial, but it came out clumsy and false.

"Uh huh, sure," Tomo said, as she went back to the prep area.

…

Tomo walked out of the _Steam Donkey_ into the cold dark morning of late November, heading for her apartment. Yuka was standing outside in the alley, wearing a coat, smoking a cigarette, and talking with one of the other strippers. Tomo ignored them as she walked past, staring down at the dusty alley floor. Her hands were shoved into her coat pockets and her collar was turned up. She heard the drone of young female talk fade behind her, and then, ringing as clear as a breaking wine glass, the word "murderer."

Tomo stopped, lifted her head, and turned around, staring at the two women. They ignored her and continued talking. Tomo eyed Yuka, with her disturbingly young face and its use of oversized emphatic gestures. Tomo mouthed, "Bitch." Yuka did not look at her or reply to Tomo, but she frowned and stuttered her words. Tomo laughed to herself and went on her way.

...

Her apartment was half the size of her previous apartment. She slept on a futon she rolled out in the den, and sometimes left in the middle of the floor. She didn't have the luxury of a full size bath, but a little tub she had to climb up to get in.

Osaka had not been seen or heard since she spoke to Tomo that night, over six weeks ago. She had tried many times to contact her through the Ministry of Defense, but had received the runaround each time. Attempts to reach Alekhine were even less successful.

She had called Sakaki several times during the first two weeks, but each conversation had been awkward and forced. Sakaki seemed distant over the phone, and couldn't be held down to make an appointment. Tomo pushed Sakaki's business card into her sock drawer, and hadn't looked at it since.

She made a quick dinner of rice and miso soup. She was at the tail end of payday and had eaten nearly all of the food in her tiny kitchen, all that was left was rice and this last bit of soup. She also had a bottle of vinegar, which she couldn't remember buying. She brought out the items to the living room, sat on her unmade futon, and watched television before deciding to go to bed. It was 7:00, the day held nothing else for her, so she decided to get it over with. She lived from darkness to darkness, and the nights melded into each other.

The dreams had stopped, the ones where she was watching Rico get killed again, or a corpse talking to her and blaming her for what happened. The torture nightmares never bothered her. She just laughed at the demonically jumbled faces.

...

Tomo woke up.

She was on a bus, mostly deserted, except for the shadowy driver at the front, appearing farther from her than should be possible on a normal sized bus. She rubbed her face and wondered, am I going to work or coming back from work?

The night outside was tarry, with only the passing lampposts providing any sort of light. They illuminated nothing. It was if a wool blanket had been laid over the earth.

She leaned back in her seat, eyes forward, and jumped with a startled gasp when she saw Osaka sitting across from her.

"Hiya, Tomo!" she said, waving her hand in a wide, exaggerated arc. She wore a pink dress and a top with dandelion patterns. Her red purse was sitting in her lap and a straw hat with a sky blue lace was sitting on her head.

Tomo wanted to jump out and hug her – and then strangle her – but instead slumped back in her seat as if trying to pass through it to the ground. "I'm dreaming this," she said. "You're not really here."

"Naw Tomo, I'm here," Osaka said. A wondering look crossed her face, and Osaka patted herself. "Yeah, I'm here, dream or not."

"Well, you act the same," Tomo said. "Osaka, why did you just disappear? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Eh? I left a note," Osaka said. "Put it on your kitchen table."

"Really? I don't remember seeing anything like that when I was moving out." Tomo put her hands in her coat pockets. "You should have just told me."

"It was sudden and you were sleepin'," Osaka said. "I had to go underground, to take the heat off of you and Torako."

"Eh? The heat?"

"Well, folks were after you guys cuz they were after me... no, wait." Osaka tapped her chin. "Maybe folks were after me because they were after you guys? I can't remember."

Tomo stood up. "I am dreaming!" she said. "I'm getting off. Or waking up, or changing the channel."

"Why?" Osaka said. "Is being here talkin' to me so bad?"

"It's not bad, but it is bad," Tomo said. "I mean, it's bad in a sense that isn't... okay, we'll talk." Tomo sighed and sat back down.

"Well, what do we talk about?" Osaka said. "Potato farming?"

Tomo decided to have some fun with it. "Is there a God?"

"Yes," Osaka said, firmly and without hesitation.

"But how do you know?"

"Cuz I met him," Osaka said. "He's the one that got me into black metal."

Tomo quickly decided that asking Osaka about God wasn't fun at all, and was actually a terrible idea. "Well, that's nice Osaka," she said.

"I asked Him, 'God? How are you able to talk with all those tentacles-'"

"Osaka!" Tomo said. "Let's talk about something else."

"Okay," Osaka said. "Why do you think you're dreaming?"

Tomo shrugged. "Well, just look at it," she said. "We're the only ones here besides the driver, who might as well be some cardboard cutout. There are no stars or buildings outside, just the same lampposts coming by. Okay, this has to be the most vivid dream I ever had, sure. But I don't remember what I was doing before now, or later. I might as well have been on this bus forever."

"You're in a job you don't like, Tomo," Osaka said. "You're working all the time, double shifts, and you're burning out. This memory stuff is common with this sort of situation. You need to get out or go to a doctor."

"How do you know about my job?"

"I'm keepin' up with you," Osaka said. "Watchin' out."

Tomo scrunched up her pants at her knees, the cloth scratchy in her hands. "You know, I don't mind if I'm dreaming or not. I just wish I knew for sure."

"I bet it can be annoying," Osaka said. "I don't ever worry about stuff being a dream or real, though. I mean, if it happens, it happens." Osaka leaned forward and grinned. "Wanna know a secret?"

"Uh, is it one of those scandalous secrets? Because I do."

"I have no reason for anything I do," Osaka said. "No deeper meaning or driving goal behind any of my actions. I cook food to cook food, drive to drive, watch a TV show to watch a TV show. There's no real purpose or meaning to my life, just whatever's going on at the moment I happen to be doing something. I'm okay with that, cuz my life having no meaning frees me from all sorts of entanglements with reality. So this being a dream or this being real is the same thing to me, cuz neither hold no meaning for me in the first place except what I put in them."

Tomo furrowed her brow as she tried to process this. She shook her head. "I'm sorry Osaka, that's just too far out there for me."

"It's a kinda weird viewpoint though, huh?"

"Yeah," Tomo said. She was relaxed now, leaning back in her seat like she was at rest, instead of trying to disown herself. "I couldn't be happy with that."

Even a week later, Tomo still couldn't remember how she got on that bus, or how she got off, or if it really happened.

...

Because she spent most of her spare time watching television and reading light detective novels, Tomo put an ad in the classifieds of several newspapers:

_Osaka_

_Where are you?_

_Contact TT. I miss you._

Later, at work cleaning up her prep table, Tomo despaired at the terrible idea she had. Osaka doesn't read the paper, she thought. She'd never get that. Why'd I spend my money on it? She fully expected to get responses from jokers, all along the lines of, "Osaka is to the left of Kyoto," or something silly like that. She felt preemptive embarrassment at being the butt of jokes, instead of being the one making the jokes.

"Hey Tomo," Danube said, "Phone call."

Tomo haphazardly threw her rag over her shoulder. It missed the sink and landed on thawing pork loins. "Eh? Who is it?"

"How about you ask them and find out?"

Tomo groaned and stomped toward the office, grabbing the phone from Danube's hands.

"Hello, this is Tomo," she said in an artificially cheerful voice. She leaned over Danube's desk and rearranged his layout of hanafuda cards, accompanied by Danube's grunting. "With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" Danube snorted.

Tomo heard munching on the other end. "You know where the Day-glo Ramen office building is?" a voice said in grammatically perfect Japanese, but with a mangled and bizarre accent. "In Chiyoda?"

This is Alekhine, Tomo thought. "Yeah?"

"Meet me there," he said. He coughed and sputtered, "Stupid chips," he said. "Anyway, tomorrow, nine in the morning, office number 525. Got it?"

"Is this about Osaka?"

"I know not whom this person is of which you speak," he said, and the phone slammed down and the dead signal came through.

"It's the police," Tomo said, handing the phone to Danube. "They're coming here to shut this place down and arrest everybody."

"It's about time," Danube muttered, as he went back to rearrange his hanafuda.

...

Tomo had to set her alarm early, and she went to bed the instant she got back from work, at 200 hours. The alarm went off, she debated pressing snooze until she thought about Osaka, and readied herself for meeting with Alekhine.

She wore the best clothes she had, black slacks with a blue dress shirt, the edges of her brown longcoat flapping in the wind, the cloth belt trailing behind. She got off the bus and walked the rest of the way to the Day-Glo Ramen building.

Inside, she approached office number 525 and noticed the door had another person's name on it. Probably his partner, she thought, as she entered.

Next to the door was a simple glass table with a vase displaying wilted and crumbling flowers. The office was cramped with papers and folders, and shoved up against the wall was the desk, holding skyscrapers of papers and folders taller than Tomo. Amidst them all was Alekhine, watching a tiny flatscreen, sitting in a nest of tiny boxes that once held burgers.

"Mr. Alekhine?" Tomo said. "Here about Osaka?"

Alekhine jerked out of his chair. "Oh God, what do you- oh Ms. Takino," he said. He sat back down. "Shut the door please, and get ready to run when I give the signal."

"Why?" Tomo said, as she shut the door.

"No reason. Anyway, Osaka. I'll get right down to business." There was no guest chair in the office, so Tomo stood up. She waited for Alekhine to start, but his attention was now glued to the television.

"Um, Alekhine?"

"Wrong!" he shouted. Tomo jumped back and instinctively reached for her bokken, which she still carried around. Alekhine grabbed the television and threw it against the wall. "It's not Rachmaninoff," he shouted to the television as it splattered into plastic, metal, and glass. "It's Mozart!" He knocked over a stack of papers on the desk, and the fell to the floor, sweeping across the white tile floor, as did the tiny red coffins for burgers.

He sat back down. "Anyway," he said.

"What-what was that about?" Tomo said. "Are you acting?"

Alekhine blinked. "Oh," he said. "I hate that scene. Anyway, about Osaka. She's doing fine."

"Okay," Tomo said. "And?"

"She's underground," he said. "Trying to take the heat off of you and Torako."

Tomo couldn't help but sneer at the mention of Torako's name. "Yeah, Osaka told me all that," she said. So it wasn't a dream, she thought. "But where is she? Can I talk to her?"

"She's here in Tokyo," Alekhine said. "As to talking, probably not. There's not much I can tell you unless she tells you herself. I figure she can talk to you when she gets the chance, not being watched and all, but you're just going to have to be patient."

So this is what it comes to, she thought. The bleak existence of the past two months came down on Tomo, filling her with dread and hatred of the future. She made a desperate decision, based more on animal rage and deep feelings than any reason or logic. Tomo sighed, pulled out her bokken, and raised it high. "You see this?"

"Yeah."

With a slugger's swing, Tomo swatted at one of the paper stacks. The pile smashed against the wall and split apart like a bird formation broken up by gunfire.

"I'm tired of being given the run around!" she said, as she swung it against another stack of papers. "No one comes out and says anything about what's happening, and I'm tired of it!" She smashed her bokken against the glass table, the wilted petals crumbling when they landed on the floor.

"Yeah!" Alekhine shouted, as he jumped out of his seat. "I'm tired of it too!" He pulled out a desk drawer, lifted it over his head, and slammed it to the ground. The wood splinted with a thunderous crack, and pencils, pens, paper clips, and assorted receipts spilled across the floor. "Liars and their lies! Traitors and sneaks!" He kicked at the ruined drawer before looking up at Tomo and smiling. "Hey, did you know the Utah Jazz used to be the New Orleans Jazz? Makes more sense, doesn't it?"

Tomo stared in disbelief. She trashed his office, and he was joining in. What's with this guy? An empty feeling washed into her heart, like a dead zone in a tunnel, and she sheathed her sword. She inhaled, sniffling. She was holding back tears.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Takino," Alekhine said, with surprising sincerity and gentleness. "I promise I'm not trying to give you the runaround. That's all I can tell you."

Tomo rubbed her nose with the back of her hand and sniffled again, willing herself not to cry. "She's the only friend I have left," she said. "When she was gone for six years… well… I didn't realize how much I hurt over it until she came back. I just want to know that she's still around." Tomo shrugged, and let out a desperate, tiny laugh. "Sorry for bothering you," she said, as she reached for the door handle.

"Hey," Alekhine said. Tomo turned around and rubbed her nose again. "She's not going to be gone for six years," he said. "She's not even going to be gone for one year. Half a year. But she needs time to sort things out, so let her. She's good at sorting. And shuffling. She shuffled cards in a casino. Actually, that's a lie."

Tomo shook her head. "What's your problem? Seriously? Do you take meds for it?"

The door opened, and a salary man wearing a black suit entered. He dropped his briefcase and stared, opened-mouthed, at the destruction around him.

"My television!" he shouted. "My office! What did you do!"

"Tomo!" Alekhine said, as he leapt over the desk. "Make like Journey and _Escape_!"

"What?" Tomo said, but Alekhine had pushed passed her and the salaryman, now down on his knees, and ran down the hall. Tomo wisely followed course, and quickly.

"Stop! Vandals!" the salaryman cried after them. "I'll call the police!" He leaned his head against the doorframe, and burst into tears.

...

"Alekhine!" Tomo said, as she bent over her knees, catching her breath. They were both outside on the street. "Who was that guy?"

"Beats me," he said. "Never seen him before."

Tomo looked up incredulously at Alekhine, who wasn't even winded by his run. "Wasn't that your office?"

"Naw, I broke in," he said. "Decided to use it for a meeting place."

For the first time since her husband died, Tomo laughed out of joy.

...

Alekhine offered to give her money, which Tomo turned down, not wanting to be in debt to someone so unpredictable. He got into his evil looking black car and offered to take her somewhere, which she also turned down.

"Listen, if you need anything again, put an ad in the _Yomiuri Shimbun_," he said. "I gotta drive to the States, but I'll come back if you need me for something. Like chess. I like chess."

"I don't," Tomo said, deciding not to remark on his driving to the States, "but I'll place an ad if I need you."

Alekhine waved and drove off.

Tomo was in a better mood than she had been in months. She whistled a tune and decided to enjoy the bright morning with a leisurely walk. She had been living in the night for so long that she had forgotten how lovely the late morning could be. The wind was cold and biting, but it was invigorating. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She bumped into someone.

"Oh, pardon me officer," she said, opening her eyes and seeing the back of a blue uniform. She was going to offer an excuse, but froze when the officer turned around. It was Torako.


	23. Chapter 23

Torako doesn't do uniforms.

This would be expected. The point of uniforms is to conform, to be part of the machine, and people with a surface knowledge of Torako assumed her punk soul bristled at the notion. In reality, Torako was too pragmatic to be a true non-conformist; to her, if something worked, you used it, regardless if it "conformed" or not. Torako didn't do uniforms, not out of fear of conformity, but because they didn't work for her.

This specific uniform didn't work for her because uniforms for women in the Traffic Bureau, Traffic Infraction Division, involved dresses. The rest of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force had made dresses for women optional, and the majority of women had switched to slacks. But not the Traffic Infraction Division, no. The women had to wear dresses, as the memo said, "…to preserve the calming spirit of cooperation between the female police officer and the pedestrians they serve." Torako had asked herself, many times, what wearing dresses had to do with a calming spirit of cooperation, and her conclusion was based on heresy. It was decreed by the Traffic Infraction Division's senior superintendent, a jowly old man who answered in grunts and glares, who would only retire the second after he died. He apparently believes in what he called "the old ways", and that meant women were naturally subordinate to men… and they wear dresses. Torako was glad she didn't have to deal with him directly.

On top of that, Torako hated wearing dresses. She hated that feeling of exposure, and she hated how sexist it was; men can wear pants, but women can't? She had to wear the dress, though, if she expected to keep her job, and Torako wanted to keep her job. There is a level of self-sacrifice a person has to commit to reach certain goals, a sort of selling out of the self - a difficult act for the prideful and entitled. Torako wasn't possessed by the demon pride, and she had fought too hard to preserve her personality against an antagonistic society to have the chance to learn entitlement. She would sacrifice a part of her self if it meant keeping her badge and her gun, which, in turn, allowed her to shovel toward her goal of solving Asagi's murder.

Still, she fought her own battle against the conformity pushed onto her. She was a sight to be seen in the Kanda area, scowling over a car engaged in parking malfeasance, filling out a ticket while a cigarette dangled out of her mouth. A pedestrian approaching her could hear Big Black's misanthropic caterwauling before seeing the earbud cables snaking down into her pocket. She walked down the sidewalk, not with the click-clack of brown low-heeled pumps, but the stomping of black combat boots. Her black wool stockings stood out, as did the Union Jack, Black Flag, and Melt Banana buttons pinned to her hat. She once wore a black lace choker, but her supervisor told her she was going a little too far. Her hair had grown long and shaggy, and her eyes peeked through the tips of her bangs, like a tiger hiding behind bamboo.

Of course, Torako knew her uniform accessories were pushing it, but she was fortunate to have a supervisor that let her get away with it.

"There's been a lot of grumbling with the traffic police here," Hiro Tezuka said, sitting on a table at the koban Torako worked out of. "Especially the women. I got some complaints in, and its driving me batty."

"They'll get over it," Torako said, as she poured tea into her cup. She always took her hat off when she entered the koban, squishing the cloth between her fingers and hurling it against a chair.

"Yeah, but do you think you could trim your hair a little? Please?"

Torako shrugged. "Sure."

"And how about you pour your supervisor some tea?"

"No," Torako said. "I'm not your maid."

...

Hiro Tezuka appeared to be a changed man. The wreckage of his NSX Super GT had barely stopped smoking when he was pulled before a tribunal and stripped of his command. He was bumped down to lieutenant, and moved into the Kanda district, working at a substation over the traffic infraction division officers in the area. He accepted his punishment with calm deference and, most shockingly of all, humility. The men under his previous command suspected him of faking it to keep from getting fired or jailed, but even months later the brash and arrogant personality hadn't surfaced. Every now and then the condescending smirk and over-confident smile would return before quickly hiding away, like a present brought out prematurely and then shoved back in the closet. Nonetheless, he was watched closely for signs of his old behavior.

It was the late chief Akiyama that had requested he take Torako to prevent her from getting fired. Hiro gladly accepted.

"They're accusing me of favoritism," Hiro said one day, when Torako was sitting in his substation, an old brick affair that smelled of mildew and the biochemical history of every person that ever worked there.

"They?"

"Oh you know, the all-encompassing 'they'," he said, delivering a killer grin. "The people under me. They can tell I treat you differently."

Torako shrugged, and tapped her hand on the chair's arm. She wanted a cigarette, and she couldn't smoke it here. "Then stop showing favoritism," she said.

It was a logical solution to the problem, but he couldn't stop showing her favoritism, and Torako noticed it. She had made it clear that their previous relationship had ended, and that there was no going back, but she wondered if she would have to make her point in more forceful terms.

She noticed the change in his behavior too, of course, and like the rest of the people who were once under his command, she doubted it was sincere. It might as well be a mask he was going to tear off the instant he got his captaincy back, and Torako was watching for any signs of deception. So far, she was surprised. He seemed to be humble and far less arrogant, less self-assuming. She noticed the mischievous twinkle come into his eye sometimes, but he seemed to have it under control. So far.

...

Torako tried to call Tomo, but she had changed her number. Visiting the apartment revealed new tenants in both Tomo and Osaka's residences. Torako expected that from Osaka – she had left her a note saying she had to take some time to herself – but Tomo leaving without telling anyone upset Torako. On top of that, she had to deal with her anger concerning the reports of Akiyama's death. What angered her the most was that the reports lied.

They painted him as a rogue madman, someone who couldn't take retirement, and decided to walk into the middle of a street in a residential area and fire into a randomly passing car. The news reports claimed he had stolen his gun, and only a minor correction, weeks later, pointed out that he had a license to carry.

Feeling depressed over Akiyama's death, angry because of the false coverage, and exhausted from defending him against her co-workers, Torako went home to a package in the mail with her address written in his hand. She inhaled sharply, and made quick, cagey glances up and down her street. Satisfied that she wasn't being watched, she tucked the package under her arm and rushed inside to the kitchen.

...

In 1968, student protests were in full swing at colleges all over Japan. Militant student groups clashed with liberal student groups, and both fought against the police. In January of 1969, riot police used tear gas to disperse students who had occupied the tower of Tokyo University. In late 1970, writer Yukio Mishima and his group invaded one of the headquarters of the SDF and took the commandant hostage. After realizing his failure to incite a coup to restore the power of the Emperor, Mishima committed suicide. Dispersed amongst these events were protests, clashes against police, political agitation, and even murder. It was three years of the worst social unrest to hit Japan since the end of Meiji Restoration.

The men in power, the government officials, businessmen, even gangsters, watched these events and were frightened. They were frightened of a Japan they saw in their nightmares, of the fist of communism rendering everyone to static wages (thus putting them out of business), or the bayonet of militarism leading to fascism (again, putting them out of business). They watched this warily, and like-minded individuals contacted each other and discussed what they would do.

What they did was form a group. A group that would change Japan for the better, so that these long-haired know-nothing students wouldn't ruin it. A group that would groom the best and the brightest to make Japan great by respecting old traditions, and leading in new technologies. The ultimate goal was a Japan that would lead the world in all aspects of human endeavor: economic, cultural, social, and even military, if it came to that. They took as their symbol Mount Fuji, except what Mount Fuji once was; an active volcano. Their Japan was now dormant, sleeping like Mount Fuji, but would one day explode in full power and blanket its ideas like ash and molten earth onto Japan, and then the world… a Rain of Terra, as they called themselves.

Torako thought it all incredibly stupid and pathetic. She read this document and saw frightened old men terrified of the next generation, frightened old men doing everything they could to keep their power, or at least brainwash the next generation to behave like them. They were members of a generation refusing to let the next generation come into its own, and instead were using a system of media, educational, and even historical manipulation to turn each generation into their ideas of behavior and "Japaness", eventually infecting the world. Akiyama had provided a list of known members – certainly a who's who of big businessmen, media owners, and politicians, although, weirdly, no prime ministers. Torako couldn't see such a group ever succeeding in carrying out their goals, although their still being in existence was impressive.

Torako moved her ashtray over the table and lit a cigarette, skimming pages concerning ROT's history and goals. Torako had no interest in these sorts of secrets. Government secrets, to Torako, were for three reasons: to gain more power, to keep power, and to prevent others from getting power. Tomo could sift through these secret conspiracies all she wanted, but Torako only saw animalistic behavior.

Then she got to the most recent document, one Akiyama had typed some days before he was killed. Torako's eyes narrowed and she put out her cigarette and grasped the paper with both hands, holding it up toward her face to better read the typescript from Akiyama's ancient IBM Selectric typewriter. Torako could tell the letter was typed in an overpowering emotional state, because it became nearly incomprehensible, like a great spilling of strong emotions with no control or order.

In the letter, he summarized his own entry into ROT. It was at the tail end of what was called the Black Water incident, twenty years ago, when Akiyama blackmailed, threatened, and bargained for his life. It was he that had saved Tomo from murder at the beach house. Torako read that part twice, and gathered that Akiyama blamed himself for the murder of Miruchi Inoue, the girl who had her throat slit. There was some Christian Biblical allusion Torako couldn't grasp, but she figured out pretty quickly Akiyama felt incredible guilt, and somehow wanted to atone – or to even be punished. Torako figured out the wording after another careful reading, and realized that Akiyama was saying he purposely sacrificed Miruchi to save Tomo.

Torako shuddered and tossed the page away as if it had come alive and bit her. She pushed her chair away and stumbled toward the cabinet under her sink, opening it and pulling out a half empty bottle of Chivas Regal. She stood up and opened the cabinet over her stove, stared at the glasses and cups, and then shut the cabinet and walked out into her backyard, not even aware that she was cursing under her breath.

She stepped out and sat on the wood steps leading to her tiny and cramped patch of grass. She popped open the Chivas and took a swig from the bottle, and let the scotch burn as the chill wind cut into her face and bare arms. She sat there as long as she could take it. It was dark now, and she could hear the busy street in front of her house as her neighbors took their trash out front and complained to each other about the cold.

She took another swig and felt like a child of a beloved father, a child who grows up and discovers her father burned down orphanages and hospitals so he could build strip malls and oil refineries in their place. As she had done many times since she last saw them, she imagined what Tomo or Osaka would do. She thought of Tomo with anger and hurt, and Osaka with a sad longing. These feelings intermixed with a bitter sense of betrayal at Akiyama, fighting against her filial love for him, and she washed them away with each swig of her scotch, and then they'd rise up again like acid reflux. Torako decided she was being weak, and went inside her house and put away the scotch.

...

Torako had trouble sleeping, and volunteered for double shifts, which were granted her. She spent little time at her actual house, only going there to shower, change clothes, and sometimes to play on her guitar. She mostly slept in the koban she shared with Jichiro. Sometimes she would avoid going home altogether, and sit on the K-line train, listening to music on her MP3 player while the train looped until she was ready for her next shift. Her Fiat had suffered a major electrical malfunction that she hadn't bothered fixing. She was heavily into Joy Division to the point where the band was ruined for her, because she couldn't listen to them again without thinking of this sad, lonely period in her life.

She was on the train one night – any night, they all seemed the same to her – dozing off between Ian Curtis laying bare his damaged soul, and the professional and toneless announcements of each stop on the line. It was early morning and very few people came on.

One person came on and Torako, her head down, watched his feet move until he sat in front of her, across the aisle. Empty seats everywhere on the train and he sits in front of me, she thought. Great. Must be trying to start something. She lifted her head to shoo him away – usually a condescending stare did it – and saw that she was looking into Alekhine's deranged eyes.

"I dipped my car in the river Styx when it was born, but I held it by its two back tires, so it constantly suffers blowouts," he said.

Torako slowly removed her ear buds. Speech was slow coming, but it came. "Where's Osaka? Is she okay?" Her voice didn't sound like her own, but like someone had an old scratchy record they were playing on an ancient crank handle Victrola.

"She's good," Alekhine said. "Underground. Has a lot to deal with, don't you know."

"Underground," Torako said.

"Not in the figurative meaning of the word. Metaphysically speaking," Alekhine said. "To distract certain people from thinking about you and Tomo."

Torako went through the motions of lighting a cigarette. It was banned on this train, but no one was around to care. "What do you want?"

Alekhine stood up, and walked across the aisle to sit next to Torako, something Torako did not want. The blue glow of the outside lights, blue like shining a flashlight through an empty Noxzema bottle, shined into the dimly lit train. Alekhine sat next to Torako and stared at her, who stared back. Then, Alekhine launched into a narrative that had no pauses, and was told as if it was one sentence.

"I joined the French Foreign Legion and was stationed in Algeria for four years until I was promoted to sergeant and transferred to France, and the next day the Franco-Prussian war broke out. French law prohibits the Foreign Legion deploying in metropolitan areas, but after the French's army capitulation at the Battle of Sedan, the Foreign Legion was deployed for the first time on French soil.

"We were tasked with breaking up the Siege of Paris, and ordered to re-take Orléans as a diversionary tactic. After some bloody fighting, we grabbed Orléans, but the Prussian forces regrouped and split the French army in two. My squad was overwhelmed, and we ran out of ammo. A bayonet charge was ordered, and the majority of us were slaughtered. A handful were captured.

"I was captured and, after a month, sentenced to death by firing squad. Without a meal or last request, me and my men were marched in front of the firing squad. The bullets ripped into us and we fell to the ground.

"I wasn't dead, though. I woke up, suffocating from a bullet in my lung and from being at the bottom of a pile of executed traveling on a donkey cart. I tried to crawl through them, but I couldn't, so I pushed with my legs, shoving bodies of my subordinates into the road, my history with each one passing before my eyes as their bodies fell on the road, the donkey cart continuing on its way to the mass grave. I saw moonlight and rolled myself off the cart, my landing softened by the corpse of my commanding officer.

"I thanked him and crawled off the road and into the forest on my hands and knees, each breath a painful gasp. I don't know how far I crawled, or how long I crawled. I came across some peasants who took me in and corralled a doctor to look me over. He removed a bullet from my lung. Three other bullets had passed through my body and exited out of my back – a miracle. There was one in my head they couldn't get. I didn't sleep. I was afraid I wouldn't wake up again. I hallucinated terribly, but I didn't sleep. Eventually, I was unable to go to sleep even when I wanted to.

"Three months passed before I was well enough to walk, so I thanked the family and the doctor for taking care of me, and went out to find my reassignment. There was no reassignment, however, because the Third Republic had surrendered and the war was over. Four months later, I was given an honorable discharge, my earnings, and French citizenship due to _Français par le sang versé_.

"Anyway, Tomo's going to be at the Day-Glo Ramen building at 900 tomorrow morning. We'll more than likely be exiting by the front entrance. If you want to hang around and wait for her, she'll be available."

Torako groped for her cigarette, but it was no longer in her mouth. Without her realizing it, Alekhine had removed it from her mouth during his narrative, and was now dangling it from his mouth, smoke curling out of the growing ash. Torako snatched her cigarette from his mouth and dropped it on the train floor, smashing it out with her boot.

"You shouldn't litter," Alekhine said.

"What does Tomo showing up tomorrow have to do with that story you told me?"

"Not a damn thing. Sweet Tea... uh, Osaka is upset with the current state of you and Tomo's relationship, and she hopes you can make amends. You, of course, because Tomo won't be the one to make the first step."

"Hmm," Torako said. "How about Osaka come here herself and tell us how she feels? Instead of using an intermediary."

"Can't. She's underground, remember? But don't worry about it, she'll be showing up soon. I think. Maybe. Perhaps."

"You don't know."

"Nope." Over the train speakers the calm female voice announced the next stop. Alekhine stood up and fastened the button on his black suit coat with one hand, using only his thumb and index finger. He walked toward the exit, waiting for the train to stop and the doors to open. Torako was going to play her music again, when Alekhine turned around.

"Torako, you are a strong minded individual with powerful self-control. That's super rare in an indulgent society, and I respect it. But I got to say, isolating yourself like this is stupid and bad for your mental health. Needing the company of others isn't a sign of weakness."

"I don't need to be analyzed," Torako said. "I know what I am. I know my limitations. I work through my problems on my own, and I don't need your help. I don't want it, either."

"Sure."

"And since when are you this lucid?"

"Between 0300 and 0600 hours," Alekhine said, as the train came to a stop. He then blasted a grin that would make the Joker envious. "After that, it goes downhill." The doors opened, and Alekhine ran out onto the empty platform at full speed, giggling like a maniacal schoolgirl.

Torako frowned, and pressed play on her MP3 player. The Franco-Prussian war, Torako thought with a smirk. What an idiot. How stupid does he think I am? She would take another loop before getting off. But before getting off, she picked up her cigarette and deposited it in the waste bin.

...

Torako was sitting in a café across the street from the Day-Glo Ramen building, wearing her uniform in addition to a police issue long coat to protect her from the bitter cold. It was 8:30, and she took a sip of her coffee and a bite of her croissant as she watched the street for Tomo. She didn't know why the two were meeting, but she made a guess that it was probably about Osaka.

Alekhine appeared first, parking his black Buick GNX against the curb. He exited the car and jaunted down the street with his best 'haters gonna hate' strut, carrying a bag full of a brand of burger Torako had never seen before. He stopped in front of the building, turned around and stared directly at Torako across the street in her café, an action that startled Torako. He thrust a thumbs up into the air before turning around and running into the building. Torako frowned in annoyance.

Her coffee had grown cold and unpleasant, and her blue ceramic plate was garlanded with crumbs from her croissant. She didn't want to scare Tomo away from whatever business she had with Alekhine, so she didn't want to wait on the street for her. She was thinking of getting a refill of coffee when she saw Tomo walking down the sidewalk.

Tomo looked the same, except her hair had grown out and her normally mirthful look had been replaced with a neutral tired one. Torako could see that clearly. Her heart raced, and she nearly jumped out of her seat. To her surprise, she found herself becoming aroused. That's okay, she thought. I'm just happy to see her again for so long... maybe the coffee has something to do with it too. She waited for Tomo to enter the building before going outside.

She waited outside the building at the corner of the curb. She lit a cigarette to while away the time and keep warm. She thought about checking out Alekhine's car – maybe the only GNX in the whole of Asia - when, across the street, parked a black Toyota Crown in front of the old hotel next to the café she came from. She watched the back door open, and Zhang Ping, the "glorified pit boss" that took over Asagi's old casinos in the Taito ward, stepped out. He was talking to a dignified looking old man that Torako recognized as the Mr. Mainichi of Mainichi Construction – the corporation that purchased Ms. Ando's old bakery. They entered the hotel together.

Torako couldn't help but laugh. Did you know this was going to happen, Alekhine? Did you set it up so I'd be here? The hotel they were going into was known more for its elegantly styled restaurant that served American style plate lunches than as a hotel, and Torako assumed they were meeting for lunch. She was torn between running across the street to spy on them and waiting for Tomo.

The choice was made for her when Alekhine ran out of the front door of the building, as if he was escaping from pursuers. He looked at Torako.

"You may want to hide," he said. "Tomo's coming shortly. We'll finish our business and you can come out."

Torako pointed across the street. "Did you know about that?" she said. If he really knew, she wouldn't have to explain.

"Yeah," he said. "They're meeting in private room A on the second floor of the lobby. For lunch. They don't talk business until they finish their lunch and start their coffee and sake."

"Thanks," Torako muttered. She ducked behind the curb when Tomo ran out, panting from her exertion.

Torako put out her cigarette as they discussed something or another, and listened as Alekhine got in his car and started it, the Buick giving a throaty roar. Wait, did he just offer her a ride? Torako thought. Why did he do that? But Tomo turned it down, and Alekhine drove away.

Torako stepped out and saw Tomo walking toward her, her eyes closed. Torako smiled, and decided to play a joke on her; a rare moment of mischief for the Tiger. She positioned herself in front of Tomo and turned around, and Tomo bumped into her.

"Oh, pardon me, officer," Tomo said. Torako turned around, and looked into Tomo's face for the first time in over a month.


	24. Chapter 24

Tomo looked up at Torako and her peaceful feeling vanished. Seeing Torako dumped her back to the present like dishwater being sucked down the drain. She could only see Rico's corpse again, and the rage and anger she had directed at Torako returned like bile.

"Hello Tomo," Torako said, cautiously. "It's good to see you again."

Tomo shook her head, slowly, as if she was dazed. "No," she said. Heat welled up in her, and her face reddened.

"Are you okay?" Torako said. She leaned toward Tomo as if to touch her, but Tomo recoiled.

"Don't touch me!" Tomo said. "Stay away." She harrumphed and turned the other way down the sidewalk. "And I was having a good day too," she said, flicking the statement over her shoulder like a discarded wrapper.

Torako followed her, her long bangs swaying in front of her eyes. "Tomo, hold on," she said. "We need to talk." She reached out and touched Tomo on the shoulder.

Tomo elbowed Torako in the gut with such force that Torako's hat was knocked off. Torako gasped and fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around her stomach while trying to catch her breath. Pedestrians on the sidewalk stopped and stared, torn between minding their own business and helping a uniformed police officer.

"I told you, don't touch me," Tomo said, looking down at the gasping Torako. "Is that so hard to understand? I don't want to talk to you. Ever." Tomo turned around to head away. "And you look stupid in that uniform."

Tomo made it a minute down the sidewalk when she felt a hand grasp her neck and fingers dig into her throat. She held her hands out in front of her as she was slammed face first into the sidewalk. She yelled as she felt a knee push into her back.

"Lemme go!" Tomo shouted.

Torako grabbed Tomo's right arm and slammed handcuffs on it. She grabbed Tomo's left arm, flailing like a fish out of water, and pulled it behind Tomo's back, cuffing it as well.

Torako bent low over Tomo and spoke into her ear. Tomo grunted as Torako's knee pressed deeper into her back. "We're going to talk whether you want to or not," Torako said. "And that's the last time I'll ever let you hit me." Torako got off of Tomo and grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet.

"Help! I'm being abused!" Tomo shouted. "Abuse of power! Help, help!"

Torako held Tomo's arm tightly while she walked back toward her koban, located in this neighborhood. She was worried that the meeting across the street at the hotel would be over by the time she and Tomo had their talk, so she rushed Tomo along. "Break it up," she said to the gawking pedestrians. "I have this under control."

"She's abusing her power!" Tomo shouted. "False pretenses! Call the police!"

Torako pulled Tomo close to her and leaned down so that her mouth would reach her ear. "I know I'm abusing my power," Torako whispered. "I'm risking my career because I want to clear up what happened between us, understand? That's how much you mean to me, Tomo. Can't you understand that?" Tomo stopped shouting, and intense concentration spread over her face. Torako inwardly rejoiced; maybe I'm getting to her, she thought. "I miss you," she said.

An iron-colored streak flashed at the extreme corner of Torako's vision, and she instinctively jerked her head away. She wasn't fast enough. Metal met flesh and skull, and acid pain erupted from her temple and crawled over her body. Torako clapped her hand over the wound, feeling the warm wet blood flow through her fingers.

"Ha!" Tomo said, standing in front of her. She held up her right hand, the handcuffs dangling from her wrist, while her free left hand worked the lock. The cuffs unsnapped and fell to the ground. "You think I don't come prepared?" Tomo said, holding up a key. "They don't call me the master of unlocking for nothing." She placed the key under her sleeve. "Now, what was that you were saying? I wasn't paying attention, see, because my brilliant-" Tomo's smug face changed to concern as Torako moved her hand away from her temple. Blood was pouring from her angry wound, and Torako clenched her fists at her side. Her head was down, facing the sidewalk, her hanging hair obscuring her face like a curtain hiding the sun.

"Whoa, I didn't mean to hurt you," Tomo said, holding her hands in front of her. "Are you okay?" Torako looked up, her lips curled back into a snarl.

"Torako?"

Torako pounced on Tomo, grabbed her by the neck and slammed her to the ground. Torako straddled her and raised a fist in the air, a guttural growl escaping her throat. Tomo shouted, "Get off me!" and pushed against Torako's chest, but Torako's fist flew down like a meteor and slammed into Tomo's chin, nearly knocking her unconscious. Tomo felt her arms turn to rubber, and Torako's fist slammed into her face again.

"Torako," she said, gasping, "stop." She grabbed the arm holding her down, choking her neck, but couldn't get a grip strong enough to pull it away.

Torako's fist slammed down again. A foul crack like thunder over a swamp broke through the air, and blood spurted from Tomo's nose. Tomo's arms went limp and fell to her side, and she whispered, "Please."

Torako held her fist high again, the morning sun making her a monstrous shadow over Tomo's prone body. Torako's rage unclenched itself, and Torako saw Tomo, bleeding and choking. She saw pain and fear in Tomo's eyes. Pain because of her. Fear of her. Torako loosened her grip on Tomo's neck, and jumped away from her. Her mouth was slightly parted in disturbed disbelief.

Tomo waded through her dazed state and reached functional consciousness. She pushed herself from the ground, rubbing her neck. Blood poured from her nose as if it was in competition with the wound on Torako's temple. "You're insane, Torako!" Tomo shouted.

"I'm sorry," Torako said. She heard Alekhine from last night, _you have powerful self-control_, and those words sunk to the pit of her stomach and burned.

"You're not sorry!" Tomo said. "I saw your face! You looked like an animal. A wild animal! You wanted to kill me! Stay away from me Torako, I want nothing to do with you!" Tomo wiped her sleeve across her nose, soaking it with blood. They ignored the crowd around them. "I'm going to report you, Torako. I'm going to make you lose your job! You don't deserve to be a police officer!"

"Yeah," Torako said. "I don't." For the first time since they had known each other, Tomo saw something she thought she'd never see - tears forming at the edges of Torako's eyes. This wasn't enough to break through Tomo's anger and fear.

"Just leave me alone, okay?" she said. "You're sick and you need help. You destroy..." Tomo sighed and looked at the ground. She wanted to sleep for a long time. "We're not good for each other," she said. "Never have been. Too different." She wiped her nose on her sleeve again. "Goodbye," Tomo said. She walked across the street and entered the café, the one Torako waited in earlier that morning.

Torako straightened out her long coat and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, holding it to her temple. Several pedestrians crowded around her and asked if she needed help, but she said "no" to each of them. They got the idea and left her alone. When her wound had clotted, she threw her blood-soaked handkerchief into the trashcan. She looked at the hotel across the street, her intent to eavesdrop on the meeting between Mr. Mainichi and Zhang Ping now some robotic job to be executed out of duty instead of passion. Why bother, she thought. It's just more dead ends. Even though, she thought of Asagi and walked across the street, not bothering to pick up her hat.

...

Torako went to the bathroom first to clean her wound, asking the front desk for bandages and antiseptic pads. Torako knew she was procrastinating, trying to make an excuse not to spy on the two. I don't have to do this, she thought. But it felt wrong to stop now. She had spent the last two months in a passionate Hell-bound frenzy over Asagi's murder, dragging Tomo and Osaka with her, breaking rules and her own personal ethics to capture her murderer, but now it just seemed so remote and useless. Why am I even here, she thought.

The front desk gladly provided her with what she needed. She entered the bathroom and stood in front of a mirror and got to work cleaning and dressing her wound. She unpeeled the adhesive bandage and taped it over the wound, making sure it wouldn't catch strands of her hair. She used her fingers to comb her hair over the bandage. Good, she thought, it hardly shows up.

Then, satisfied that she had dressed her wound to the best of her abilities, she locked herself in the waiting section of the lady's bathroom, sat down on the couch, and burst into tears. She took off her long coat and buried her face in it, trying to muffle the sound of her weeping. The part of her that was still reasonable and rational thought how strange she sounded when she cried, like it was someone else. Shame reverberated through her, of how she attacked Tomo, and she couldn't help but think of Akiyama, Rico, and Asagi. She hadn't cried over any of them – really, she hadn't cried since her father had died – but grief mixed in with shame and she began to wail. I'm so weak, she thought. I'm the lowest.

Stop, a commanding voice came into her mind. Get it together. I can't, Torako thought, I don't want to. Yes you can, came the voice. Get it together. You're more than this, Torako.

Yeah, Torako thought. I am.

Her wailing subsided and she let loose choking sobs. She sniffled, and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. She stood up from the couch, her body sore from her spasming muscles. I'm okay, she thought. She still felt pain in her heart, because she knew she had irrevocably damaged any hope of reunion with Tomo. I'm going to have that for the rest of my life, she thought. I have to live with it. She straightened out her long coat and put it back on, and entered the main bathroom area of the lady's room. She wetted a paper towel and dabbed her face, and scrubbed the spot on her long coat wet from her tears. She stared at herself in the mirror, took a deep breath, and made her way upstairs to private room A. As she did so, she wondered why that voice in her mind sounded so much like Osaka.

...

Torako walked down the hall slowly, creeping toward Room A. The hall had a fusillade of strongly tinted windows facing the street, so Torako didn't have to worry about lost privacy. Several times she had asked herself, what I'm I going to do when I find it? March on in? Grill everyone? Get in trouble? She was hunting for private room A when she recognized Zhang Ping's unmistakable brassy voice and his slight Chinese accent. The door to private room A was slightly ajar, which made Torako suspicious. Still, she parked herself next to the doorway and listened.

There was an old, untamed voice with a strong Osakan accent that Torako decided was Mr. Mainichi. Then she heard another voice, a young woman, prim and proper. I didn't see her come in, she thought. Another guest? She couldn't see them without being spotted, so she had to listen.

"-will come around," Zhang Ping said. "He has the proper mindset. 'A cut worm will forgive the plow.'"

"Haw haw!" Mr. Mainichi laughed.

"William Blake," the woman said.

"Indeed," Zhang Ping said. "What is the status of our minor irritant?"

"Oh it's done turned into a major irritant, now," Mr. Mainichi said. "I swear that girl has God himself looking after her. She's thrown off and hospitalized everyone we've sent after her. Can't we find out anything about her?"

"No," the woman said. "My research hits dead ends. She was part of a joint Japanese-American experiment, and was used for intelligence gathering-"

Torako realized they were talking about Osaka.

"-but apparently she's retired. She's watched over by both the American Embassy and the Ministry of Defense."

"Great," Mr. Mainichi said. "Two organizations we've not been able to control. Well, pile on the moles!" Thick, rich liquid swished against crystal. "This is fine sake, really fine."

"I've come to believe our moles are being fed false information," the woman said.

"Come on!" Mr. Mainichi said.

"They've hired some freelancer who apparently has a history with the subject-"

Alekhine, Torako thought.

"-and he's proven even more enigmatic than his lady friend. I can literally find nothing on him. I believe he's behind the misinformation that's throwing us off her trail."

"Let's put that aside for the moment," Zhang Ping said. "She seems more interested in being left alone, and I believe we should do that. What are our projections for getting Oda Otomo elected as the next prime minister?"

"Well, the odds of having the current prime minister kicked out of office are excellent," the woman said. "At least as soon as we plant the info, but getting Mr. Otomo elected is a dicey prospect indeed. My intel says he's considered to be too young."

"You leave that to me," Mr. Mainichi said. "I have plenty of influence and plenty of money. You two make sure Hitori-"

The current prime minister, Torako thought.

"-takes the fall, and I guarantee Oda'll get elected. I'll restore your family as well. You can count on it."

"Thank you kindly Mr. Mainichi," the woman said. "I will be in your debt."

"Don't worry about it," Mr. Mainichi said, with laughter in his voice. "You've done a super fine job so far, for sure."

"Thank you sir. I can only hope that I match Asagi Ayase's genius."

Torako's ears reddened and her nerves electrified. This is a setup, she thought. It's too obvious a subject to talk about. She knows I'm here, listening.

"Yes, of course," Mr. Mainichi said irritably. "Asagi overstepped her bounds. A pity."

"She was a great mentor," the woman said. "I understand why Zhang-"

"Yes, thank you, let's continue with Otomo, shall we?"

"Sure," the woman said, in a childish sing-song voice. "I was merely complimenting you on-"

"I appreciate it, let's continue," Zhang Ping said, with obvious heat. Torako strained her hearing, but no one spoke. Wooden legs from a chair scraped against soft carpet, and Torako immediately turned around and walked toward the stairs.

...

"Why is this door open?" Zhang Ping said, as he stepped into the hallway. He looked to his left, and then to his right, and saw the back of a police officer going down the stairs, her head disappearing from his sight as if she was entering a cellar. He stared at the spot where the point of her head disappeared, his eyes squinting behind his dark shades. He had an inexplicable urge to go back inside and drink sake, but he ignored it. Then, for the first time in over a month, he remembered. He smiled.

"How did I forget/old debts to remit," he said. He went back inside the private room, shut the door behind him, and introduced a new subject to the group.

...

"Stupid Torako," Tomo said.

She was in the tidy bathroom of the café. She was observing herself in the mirror, checking each arch and turn of her nose. Well, maybe only the cartilage broke, she thought. She had stuffed wads of toilet paper into her nose, and was hoping to stem the flow of blood so she could walk outside and not get stared at. I'm going to have to see a doctor anyway, she thought. Stupid Torako.

The door swung open and a shy and retiring young woman entered, facing the floor. She became aware that someone was in the bathroom, so she stopped and slowly lifted her head to face Tomo, who was staring at her. She saw Tomo's face and visibly recoiled.

"Well," Tomo said, bloody toilet paper stuffed in her nose, "aren't I enchanting?"

"N-no ma'am," the woman said.

"Well who asked you?" Tomo said, shoving a fist in the air. "Get out of here! No, no, don't do that." She waved her hands in front of her. "Sorry, bad day. I'll leave. Stupid Torako."

"Who?" the young woman said.

"No one important," Tomo said, as she shoved the door aside. The café wasn't crowded, and Tomo walked to the door to leave. She put her hand on the door when the barista said, "Hey, ma'am? You need to buy something."

Tomo turned around. "No, I'm good, thanks," she said.

"You used the facilities," the barista said. "You can't do that-"

"Oh my god I don't care," Tomo said, and she pushed the door. It didn't open. Tomo looked at the handle and saw another hand, holding it shut. She traced the hand to a severe looking police officer.

"You should buy something," he said. "It's the rules of this café. I won't have you ignore them."

"Oh great," Tomo said. "I just got through dealing with one of your ilk."

The officer scowled. "I don't have any elk," he said. "I resent the implication that I'd have anything to do with them."

"…what's the coffee of the day, ma'am?" Tomo said. She let out a nervous laugh as she approached the counter. She purchased a cup of coffee, and for the heck of it, a kuri manju. She had thought up a poorly conceived plan of throwing the coffee at the barista and smashing the pastry in the officer's face, but now that she had paid for the items, (and they looked really, really good) Tomo decided to eat them. Also, she didn't want to get arrested.

She sat at a table next to the window. Her nose felt numb, and again she thought, stupid Torako. Why did she hit me? You smacked her with those handcuffs. Okay, sure, she thought. And did you see how she looked? She was going to cry. She felt ashamed. Big deal, Tomo scowled, chomping into her kuri manju. She's crazy. Maybe, but shouldn't you forgive her? Sakaki forgave you. Yeah, but…

"Wait a minute," she said out loud. The few patrons in the cafe glanced at her. She looked around. "Osaka?"

"It's left of Kyoto," a spiky haired college student said.

"Get a girlfriend and stop bothering me," Tomo said. Geez.

"Hey, you asked," he said. Tomo ignored him. I'm going crazy, she thought.

She devoured her kuri manju and ordered another one. She was hungrier than she thought. She finished the second one, taking her time with it, and worked on finishing her coffee. She would glance outside occasionally, studying the pedestrians. She ignored the black Toyota Crown because she didn't want to think about it… oh damn.

She saw Zhang Ping approach the car and… let's see, that's Mr. Mainichi, isn't it? And they're wearing their rings. She watched them shake each other's hand. Their mouths flapping a mile a minute. A lot of back slapping. Oh, who cares? Tomo thought. I don't.

She took a big sip of her coffee, her vision blocked by the paper cup as it delivered the last of the coffee into her mouth. She put it down, looked outside again, and choked on her coffee. She hacked and patted her chest. She hacked so hard one of the pieces of bloody toilet paper blasted out of her nose, and blood poured out of her nostril.

"Dammit," she said, holding her hand to her nose. She grabbed a paper napkin, balled it up, and worked it into her nostril. She ignored the terrified stares of the barista, the cop, and the punk. She rushed to the bathroom to clean up, tossing the paper towel at the trashcan, missing it, and running back to her seat. She turned her attention to what caused her to choke – a woman. A woman wearing a hat, sunglasses, and a dress, the exact same worn by the woman who made the phone call at Tokyo station to report Asagi Ayase's murder.

This is insane, Tomo thought, as she spied the three. That's not Aya Suzuki. Let's see… that jeweler told us it was her. What's her name - Reiko Tanaka.

She slammed her fist on her table. We were misdirected! And we fell for it! Tomo stared at the woman, and no matter how she tried to reason herself out of it, it was a fact – that was indeed the mysterious Tokyo Station payphone caller.

"Wait, why am I getting worked up over this?" she said. "That's Torako's business. I don't care. Hmph." She crossed her arms.

"Lady, are you okay?" the officer said, now genuinely perturbed. "You're talking to yourself."

"That's because I'm the only one that listens," Tomo said, willing herself not to get embarrassed. Despite her vow to not get involved, she watched the three talk outside. Zhang Ping drove away in the Toyota. A black S-class Mercedes-Benz with a chauffeur drove to the curb and picked up Mr. Mainichi. The woman watched them leave, and then walked down the sidewalk, passing Tomo's view. Tomo saw the ring on her finger.

I'm not getting involved, Tomo thought, as the woman passed the cafe. She got out of her seat and left the cafe. Nope, no way. She saw the woman walk down the sidewalk, her hat like a beacon from a ship in distress. Oh who am I kidding, Tomo thought, and she followed after her.

...

The woman got on a bus, and Tomo made her way to the back, careful not to make eye contact. Why is she wearing all that stuff anyway? she thought. So dumb looking. It's obvious she doesn't want to be recognized, which just makes people stare at her anyway. The bus stopped, and the woman got off. Tomo waited until the last possible second, and sprinted through the closing doors, ignoring the grumbling bus driver. Tomo recognized the stop – it was the stop she took to get to her apartment.

She scanned the sidewalk, and saw the woman again. She followed, keeping her distance. The woman walked for two hundred meters, turned left, and entered Tomo's apartment building.

This can't be real, Tomo thought. Is she staying in the same building? Tomo perspired despite the cold weather, and walked inside the lobby of her apartment building. The woman was at the elevator, waiting for it to arrive. The bell sounded, the doors opened, and the woman stepped in. Tomo followed.

Tomo pressed button eight – one floor below her own floor – and watched as the woman's dainty finger pressed button nine. Tomo nearly panicked. My floor? How long has she been staying here? This is insane. The elevator bell chimed, and the doors opened to floor eight. Tomo stepped out, and acted like she knew where she was going. She took the first apartment door closest to the elevator and dug in her pockets as if she was looking for her key. The woman stayed put, and the elevator doors shut.

Tomo ran down the hall, rushing toward the stairwell. She dashed up the flight of stairs to floor nine, and gently opened the door. She did her best to walk normally, and turned the curve to her hall – and saw the woman with her arms folded, standing in front of Tomo's apartment door.

Tomo pulled out her bokken. "What do you want?"

"Put that twig away, Tomo," the woman said. "I saw you in the café. You really think I didn't know you were following me?"

"How the hell do you know me?" Tomo said. "Start talking!"

The woman heaved an exasperated sigh. She took off her shades and pulled off her hat, letting her long amber hair flow down her shoulders.

Tomo dropped her bokken and stared, slack-jawed. Maturity had changed her face and body, but Tomo instantly recognized who she was.

"Are you going to stare at me, Tomo," Chiyo said, with a condescending half-smile, "or are you going to let me in?"


	25. Chapter 25

"Um, sure Chiyo," Tomo said, as she placed her bokken back into her coat. "Come on in." Tomo unlocked her apartment and noticed that Chiyo was a head taller than her. Tomo opened the door.

"Whoops, hold on," Tomo said, as she let Chiyo into her cramped apartment. "Let me make room."

Tomo rushed to the futon spread out in the middle of the floor, and rolled it up, not bothering to remove the sheets. She stuffed the rolled-up futon into a closet. "Sorry about that," Tomo said. "Make yourself at home. I'll get us something to drink."

Chiyo made herself at home more than Tomo ever had, and Tomo had the apartment for two months. Chiyo tossed her hat and purse on a tiny Pembroke table with unbalanced legs, and removed her shoes. She was barefoot as she walked to the middle of the tatami mat covering the floor. She lay down effortlessly and gracefully, her hair splayed out like sunshine. Tomo raised an eyebrow as Chiyo slowly rubbed the tatami mat with her free hand, like a masseur giving a backrub.

"Um, how do you stand the cold weather in that dress, Chiyo?" Tomo said, groping for something to say to offset the awkward silence. She wished she hadn't followed her, and just stayed at the café a little longer. She removed the bloody paper from her nostrils and tossed it in the garbage can in the kitchen.

"I like the cold," she said. "It's invigorating. Besides, this is a wool dress."

"I'm going to get us some sake," Tomo said, as she washed her hands. She dried them and grabbed two white ochoko, cups specially made for drinking sake, and placed them on the counter. Tomo had a vague idea of getting Chiyo inebriated so she would talk about the group she was in, although Tomo really wanted some sake herself. Tomo wondered why she was still playing detective, even now, when it no longer mattered.

Tomo brought out the sake and the two sake cups on a bamboo tray and placed it on a low table, which she moved toward Chiyo. "I'm just going to serve it at room temperature, I hope that's okay."

"It will be fine," Chiyo said, rolling on her side and propping her head up on her hand, like Scheherazade preparing for a long night of storytelling. She bent one of her long, shapely legs at her knee and the hem of her black dress slid down it, exposing her creamy inner thigh. Tomo glanced at Chiyo's bare leg with irritation, and, she had to admit, jealousy. Yeah, rub it in you brat, Tomo thought.

Chiyo took a cup, poured sake into it, drained it, and placed it on the table. Tomo did likewise, hoping this painful experience would soon be over.

"I heard about your husband's murder," Chiyo said. Tomo put her sake down and looked into her eyes. She couldn't recognize what she saw, and wasn't sure if she wanted to. "I'm truly sorry that happened."

Tomo swallowed. "Thank you," she said. "Your organization was responsible, you know."

"It was," Chiyo said.

Tomo's eyes narrowed. "Chiyo, if you had anything to do with that-"

"Stop before you say something you'll regret," Chiyo said. "Assuming you're capable of feeling regret. But, to alleviate any suspicion you have, I assure you I had absolutely nothing to do with killing your husband."

"Chiyo, as far as I'm concerned, you being a member makes you an accomplice in Rico's murder."

"The police abuse their authority and take bribes every day," Chiyo said. "Some steal, and some even murder. Only a fool would hold you personally responsible for that. Well, back when you were a policewoman, anyway. But here you are, holding me responsible for a few miscreants-" Chiyo paused, and held up a hand. She laughed, like it was a dismissal of an insignificant subject. "I'm not here to talk about that, though. So we'll skip it."

Tomo always knew Chiyo would grow up, and even imagined what she'd be like, but what she saw in front of her was never imagined. She was beautiful and shapely, sure, but her personality would be unimaginable eight years ago. She had an allure, an intellectual and world-weary allure, but there was a flash of danger behind her eyes, like a mantis ready to strike. Tomo was bothered to see that.

"We'll skip it, huh?" Tomo said. "Just why do you belong to that group, anyway?"

"Because they're useful, Tomo," Chiyo said. She sat up, cross-legged, her long amber hair flowing down to the floor. She bent over the table, and lifted the sake bottle, pouring sake into her cup. "But, again, I'm not here for all that." She placed the sake bottle back and raised her head to drown the sake, her silky throat vibrating with delicate gulps. Tomo poured a cup of her own.

Chiyo put down her empty cup. "I saw you in the café, saw you watching us. It was a sheer coincidence that you'd be there when our meeting finished, so I assume you were set up to be there, but that's not important. When I realized you were trailing me, I took it upon myself to meet you at your apartment. I want to tell you something, something I've been meaning to tell you for a long, long time."

Every muscle in Tomo's body tensed. Her senses were as wide open as the throttle on a diesel train, and she was ready for any flicker of impending danger. "Oh yeah?" Tomo said. "What's that?"

"Thank you," Chiyo said, and she smiled with a beatific light that could restore a fallen angel.

Tomo couldn't hide her confusion. If she had sake in her mouth, she would have spit it out. "Thank me? For what?"

"For teaching me how the world works," Chiyo said.

Tomo's face changed as easily as if it was clay. "Oh, you're welcome," Tomo said. "I remember those classes I taught. You were a great pupil, Chiyo."

"You're so bitter," Chiyo said. "I never thought you would be this bitter and cynical. But you've even surpassed Ms. Yukari."

"There's kind of a reason for that," Tomo said. "Or are you here to rub that in? Make yourself feel superior?"

"I understand you are angry over your husband's death," Chiyo said, smiling. Her expression was inappropriate for the discussion, like a Southern Baptist preacher addressing his flock while wearing bondage gear. "I respect that. I wouldn't use it against you. I have another weapon."

"Chiyo, what do you want?" Tomo said. "We're not ever going to get along, you thanked me for… whatever hysterical reason you've concocted in that big brain of yours, so why are you still here?"

"We'll never be friends again, you mean," Chiyo said. "But we can be civil. I thanked you for showing me how the world works. You showed me that it isn't a just, fair place. You showed me the kind and the righteous don't win, but get trampled down. And it was a simple thing you did to show me that." Chiyo's smile slowly disappeared as she continued her narration:

"Your stupid prank destroyed my family."

Tomo clattered her sake cup against the table as she put it down. "What are you talking about?"

"The civil lawsuits," Chiyo said. "To see a friend I loved and respected reveal herself to be a disloyal, lying coward. To watch my dad's business crumble apart, and not understand why, and to be powerless to help him. Dad settled out of court, Tomo, but we couldn't hide what happened. Our family business lost its favored status. Business deals we've had since the founding of our company, all the way back to my great-great grandfather, were revoked. Our competitors painted dad as a… as a…"

Chiyo shook her head, as if flinging away harmful memories buzzing around her face. She leaned forward, and spoke quietly. "He was called a failure, Tomo. The last scion of a great family corporation, and he was accused of destroying it.

"He refused to fire anyone. He dropped his salary all the way to nothing so even the lowliest janitor could keep his job. He sold his house and the beach house. He sold his cars, his land, his stocks. I did what I could and dropped out of Stanford, so he could use my tuition money. That's true loyalty, do you understand, Tomo? Of course not."

"Chiyo, that is not fair. I didn't-"

"Let me finish," Chiyo said. "You owe me that. And if you don't want to pay that pittance, I'll take it from you."

Chiyo closed her eyes and took a deep breath to compose herself. She opened them, and Tomo's hair stood on end at the dark aura that shadowed her face. "He begged the board to take a pay cut. They refused. They began mass firings, while raking in profit from backdoor deals with competitors, selling off our IPs. He did everything in his power to stop them, Tomo, but it was too late. The board voted him out. He lost his family business, and he went mad."

Chiyo stared straight at Tomo, and Tomo felt as if she was staring down the barrel of a canon. "I came home from Tokyo University – at least I could go there for free – and came home to our apartment. There were police cars, an ambulance, and a crowd, and I knew, instinctively, what had happened. My dad threw himself off the top of the building. Committed suicide."

Tomo shook her head. "Chiyo, I am truly sorry."

Chiyo did something Tomo had never seen her do before, and it terrified her to the core of her soul: she sneered.

"You're not sorry," Chiyo said. "People with histrionic personality disorder can't feel empathy. I should know; I have a Ph.D. in cognitive neuroscience."

"What? I don't have a disorder."

"Not important," Chiyo said. "You're not important. My dad committed suicide. My mom stood by him, but she couldn't take that. She's just a little shell, now. Lives with me. I take care of her the best I can."

Tomo poured more sake, and then Chiyo took the bottle and poured some for herself. Tomo drowned her sake and slammed the cup down on the table. She felt warm now, and Chiyo's face was flush from the alcohol. Neither spoke for a while.

"Chiyo," Tomo said. She swallowed. "I'm sorry. For everything that happened. I don't care if you have a degree in cognitive dissonance-"

"Neuroscience."

"-but I am truly sorry for what I did. The prank I pulled."

Chiyo shook her head. "You want to know something? If you had confessed and didn't try to frame Yomi, if you had taken full responsibility for your actions, I would have stood by you to the end. Everything that happened so far – dropping out of Stanford, losing the company, my dad killing himself, my mom having a nervous breakdown- all that could have happened... and... I still... I'd still be your friend."

Chiyo stared down at the floor, her fists balled up in her lap. He bangs covered her face. Tomo sighed and rubbed her eyes with her hands.

"Chiyo... what can I do?"

Chiyo raised her head, contempt on her lips, and fire in her eyes. "Kill yourself."

Tomo's expression hardened like a petrified forest.

"You know Tomo, I wanted revenge," Chiyo said, ignoring the fuming Tomo. She let out a dainty hiccup, and poured more sake into her cup. "If we had bumped into each other years ago, I honestly would have killed you with my bare hands. But look at you. Your husband is dead. You have no friends. You're not a detective anymore. You work at a terrible job. You live in this rundown place. You're burned out. Your life, for all intents and purposes, is pretty much over. You'll kill yourself soon, I know it. I mean, you're too cowardly to do it out of decency, but I see a time, maybe a year from now, when you'll step in front of a bus, or fall over into an oncoming train." Chiyo laughed. "They say living well is the best revenge. If that's true, I had my revenge on you the day I was born."

Chiyo lifted the cup to her mouth. Tomo leaned over the table and smacked the cup out of Chiyo's hand. The cup clattered against the wall, stained it with spilled sake, and bounced on the tatami mat. Chiyo left her hand suspended and glanced up at Tomo in tired indifference.

"Really," Chiyo said. She leaned over and picked up her cup, which had rolled next to the table.

"I listened to you," Tomo said, as Chiyo poured more sake. "Now listen to me. What I did… You call me a coward. You're right Chiyo, I am a coward. My whole life is centered around fun, okay? Being entertained. I know that's not right, or healthy. When something like fear crops up, or guilt…"

Tomo grabbed the sake bottle and took a great swig from the top. She gasped when she had finished and slammed the bottle on the table, the crystal liquid sloshing against the inside of the bottle. What am I trying to say? she wondered. This started off as a defense against Chiyo's accusations, but now it sounds like a self-indictment. She held on to the neck of the sake bottle and stared into Chiyo's eyes.

"I can't handle it," Tomo said. She let go of the neck. She was gesturing. "I'm a coward, and I'm weak. I push those bad feelings aside instead of dealing with them. I lash out… I hurt you guys." Tomo looked into the distance beyond the confines of her apartment. "I hurt Torako for no reason."

"Torako," Chiyo said, as she poured more sake into her cup. "Your former partner." Chiyo drained her cup and looked across at Tomo. Chiyo had the gleam of someone that knew secret, dangerous information, and she wasn't going to tell it.

"I blamed her for something that wasn't her fault. I knew it wasn't her fault. I did it to make me feel better. I made her snap." Tomo lowered her head and shook it. "I haven't changed," she whispered.

Chiyo leaned an arm on the table and stared at the wall, sparing Tomo the occasional sidelong glance. "I was being untruthful when I said you don't have empathy," Chiyo said. "I was trying to hurt you out of malice. I apologize."

"Thanks," Tomo muttered. She looked up. "You know Chiyo, I'm glad Osaka wasn't there. I'm glad she was gone when all that happened. With her, it can be like it was before. And it'll be the same when I see her again."

Chiyo turned toward Tomo and smiled. "Oh, I wouldn't count on that," she said. "I found her last night, and told her what you did."

...

The first thing Torako did when she got back to the koban was to call the office of the prime minister and warn him about the disinformation campaign that would soon be waged against him. She was unable to get through, even after identifying herself as a police officer, although she was able to reach his secretary. The disbelief in the secretary's voice was obvious – why would a powerful industrialist like Mr. Mainichi conspire with a gangster?

Torako ran her rounds as if nothing had happened. She figured it was the least she could do. As the sky darkened, she sat alone in the koban, cleaning out Jichiro's gun. He was out at the moment, patrolling the neighborhood, making his rounds. The koban itself was a small two story building, with Jichiro's living quarters above.

She tried to avoid thinking about Tomo – there would be plenty of time for that when her shift ended – and so put the radio on a classic jazz station. She hadn't developed a taste for the music, but it was the only thing she could tolerate on the radio. Besides, it reminded her of chief Akiyama's giant phonograph player in his office. The radio wasn't loud enough to drown out the squeak of the entrance door.

Boots clamped into the private room in the back, where Torako sat.

"Forgot something, Mr. Jichiro?" Torako said, placing the cylinder of his service revolver on the table. She looked up, expecting to see Jichiro, but instead saw a gun aimed at her.

She jumped out of her chair and was about to reach for her own gun when she was shot. The sound was deafening as it echoed throughout the koban, the flash blinding. Two more shots rang out, and Torako lost feeling in her legs and fell to the floor. The pain hit, and Torako was too shocked to moan. She pressed her hand to her chest and felt the blood pour out of her. Thick, muddy blood poured out of the right side of her waist.

Her vision blurred, and the shadow stood over her.

"I'm going to watch you die," he said. "I will enjoy it, Ms. von Wallenstein."

Torako moved her hand to her coat, and felt the warm rubber grip of her Sig P250. Before she could pull it out, the man leaned over and grabbed the gun from her. She didn't have the strength to fight him.

"Not going to work," he said.

Torako moved her hand to another coat pocket.

"Really, this is pathetic," the man said, watching her. He reached into the pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.

"Ah," he said.

"...cig..arette..." Torako rasped.

The man took a cigarette out and placed it in her mouth. Torako moved her hand to grab a lighter, but she lacked the strength to pull it out. The man leaned over her, and lit her cigarette with his own lighter. Torako inhaled.

"Thanks... asshole," she said, keeping the cigarette steady with her lips. Despite her dying body, her mind raced. Are those going to be my last words? Say something else, she thought. She couldn't form words, and only breathed in cigarette smoke with each rattling breath. She felt strangely at peace. I can handle this, she thought. I'm strong enough. She tried to say, 'I'm sorry Tomo', but the words only left her heart. 'Take care of her, Osaka'.

Her eyes closed.

...

Her eyes opened.

She shut them again, as the glare of the sun was too bright. She sat up, blinking tears out of her eyes. She was sitting on something hard and metallic. She patted it with her hand, and realized it was the hood of her Fiat.

She slid off the hood and rubbed her eyes with her hand. She was disoriented, but looked around to see where she was. She wasn't in her neighborhood, but she recognized it, somehow. A place she hadn't been to in a long time.

"Hold on a minute," she said.

She heard footsteps behind her, and turned around. She focused, and saw who it was. The citrus sun made her long brown hair shine like gold. She had the face and body of a model, and a charming, mischievous smile.

Torako nearly gasped. "Asagi?"

"Face it, tiger," Asagi said. "You just hit the jackpot."

...

"You told her?" Tomo said. "Why did you do that?"

"Well, it was incidental to my real reason for talking to her, but I figured she deserved to know." Chiyo took a sip of her sake. "The Rain of Terra has taken an inordinate interest in her, to point of neurosis. I do intel, after I inherited the job from my mentor."

Asagi Ayase, Tomo thought. She didn't say it aloud. Chiyo's face was flushed, and her speech was slightly slurred. I got her, Tomo thought. I just got to keep her talking.

"I've been lying to them to protect Osaka," Chiyo said. "Pretending I don't know who she is, that I don't know what she's doing. Her comrade has done an admirable job of hiding her identity, but I already knew it was Osaka. I knew who she was the instant you guys went back to the Ueno hotel."

"Wait- you knew about that?"

"Of course," Chiyo said. "The instant you and your partner showed up at the hotel to investigate Asagi's murder, I knew it was you, Tomo. I had some people keep an eye on you, in the National Public Safety Commission." Chiyo took a sip of her sake. "I maneuvered things to get you guys off the case, especially after finding out Torako was friends with Ms. Ayase. I didn't expect her to pursue the case after I got it sealed, or you to go along with her."

Tomo poured some more sake into her cup, just to do something. She pretended to take sips, hoping to keep Chiyo at ease. She felt buzzed, and had to keep herself in control.

"Were you the one that reported our car, the second time we went back?"

"Yes," Chiyo said. "I also got Hayakawa to interview you two at Ueno Park, hoping he'd bring you guys in and apply some pressure. Make you stop. We were thwarted by officers from your district showing up. That was before we discovered your chief was working at cross purposes against us."

Tomo's cup slipped out of her hand and landed flat on the table, sloshing sake out. "Are you telling me," Tomo said, "that chief Akiyama was part of your group?" She avoided saying Rain of Terra, wondering if that would tip Chiyo that she had said too much.

"Yes, ever since the black water incident," Chiyo said. "Before our time. He was more interested in protecting you guys than he was himself. A noble man. And before you ask, no, I absolutely did not order his murder. I am not a killer, Tomo."

Tomo poured more sake into her cup, and this time, she drank it. "I knew he was murdered," Tomo said. "The media tried to make him look like a madman."

Chiyo took a sip of her sake. "We run most of the media," she said. "But anyway, I found Osaka – or she found me, I guess I should say – and warned her that we were after her. She was aware of it. That's when I told her what you did."

"What did she do?" Tomo said, light-lipped.

"Oh, she was heart-broken," Chiyo said airily, like it was a humorous adlib. "She couldn't believe you'd ever do such a thing, and then act so dishonorably when you tried to cover it up."

Tomo looked away. "I guess I deserve that," she said.

Chiyo put her cup down and studied Tomo. "You have changed, a little," she said. "You seem more reflective. More contrite. Not that it changes anything, of course."

"I'm older," Tomo said. "Grew up, I guess." She rubbed the back of her head. "I just wish I could've found out who killed Asagi Ayase. I know it would've made Torako happy."

Chiyo giggled. "What an obvious setup," she said. "Trying to get me drunk to tell all."

Tomo stuttered her excuses.

"Oh, don't even try," Chiyo said, taking a sip of her sake. "It's cute. I'm only telling you what I feel like telling you. But, if you must know, even now when it doesn't mean anything, Ryo Watanabe killed Asagi."

The gears in Tomo's brain whirled and clicked. "Wait, detective Watanabe? He was in jail for corruption charges!"

"He and Saito would show up on roll calls and cell checks, but neither was ever really in prison," Chiyo said. "We had to get them in there when you and your partner interviewed them – and I tell you, I'm glad Torako split his lip. He's an execrable human being – but both were out on our payroll, although Watanabe was exclusively used."

"If that's true, then why did he kill her? Revenge? For thwarting him when he and Saito tried to muscle in on her organization?"

"I'm sure that was part of it," Chiyo said. "Out of wounded pride. Vanity. It angered me. I reported the murder to the police, but I couldn't do anything about Watanabe. I'd be found out, and quick."

"When you called from Tokyo Station."

"Yes," Chiyo said.

"But what about everything else?" Tomo said. "Those insane torturers? Aya Suzuki's forged suicide note? Getting shot at by Section One? Waking up at the beach house? That girl next to me, dead?"

Chiyo choked on her sake and put it down. She coughed to clear her throat. "Miruchi," she said. She did not hide her anger.

"Chiyo?"

"I'll tell you who killed Miruchi," Chiyo said. "You did."

Tomo laughed. "Oh come on Chiyo, that's ridiculous. I was out the whole time."

"No, you weren't," Chiyo said.

Tomo's blood raced, carrying frost throughout her body. "Chiyo? You're pissing me off. I did not kill that girl."

"Remember the video on the news, with you waving a gun around in Oda Otomo's office?"

"Chiyo..."

"You don't remember that because you were drugged. You were drugged when you killed Miruchi. They held her down, and you slit her throat and watched her die."

Tomo jumped to her feet. "That's a lie!" she shouted.

Chiyo looked away from Tomo and played with her empty sake cup. "You're innocent of her murder, don't worry about that. You were brainwashed. It was supposed to be the other way around – she was supposed to kill you."

Tomo froze. "How did... how do you know this?"

"It was a warning to me," Chiyo said, not looking at Tomo. "From... an enemy. Miruchi was an old friend of mine. I still cared for her. They were going to kill you to get you out of the way, and they were going to use her to do it. Get her arrested by the police, and then indict her for murder. A show put on for my benefit, to warn me."

Tomo slowly sat back down, her mouth opened as she tried to process what Chiyo told her. "I don't remember this," she said.

"I'm glad you don't," Chiyo said. "And I actually mean that. You were drugged out of your senses, so I doubt you ever will remember it."

Tomo leaned her head on her hands and rubbed her forehead. "Who saved me?"

"I don't know," Chiyo said, looking at Tomo with a weary smile. "Someone in the organization found out what was going on, and purposely misidentified you as Miruchi. I suspected Chief Akiyama."

"That's crazy! He wouldn't allow an innocent girl to die, even if it was to save me!"

"I agree," Chiyo said. "So I'm not sure who was responsible for sacrificing Miruchi to save your life. As for the rest, well, I don't know. We work in cells, some cells completely separated from others. Recently, I've been secretly combining... but that's not important."

Chiyo poured down the rest of her sake and stood up. She staggered a little, and let out a hiccup. "I need to be going, Tomo. Thanks for your hospitality."

Tomo stood up, more steady than Chiyo. "Chiyo, wait. Why are you a part of this evil organization? This is wrong, Chiyo! You can't expect to remain innocent and pure belonging to this... Rain of Terra! They'll drag you down!"

"Innocence and purity may be admirable in children," Chiyo said, as she went to the door to collect her belongings, "but it's tedious and egocentric in adults. Besides, I already told you they're useful to me. Officially, though, I joined to get my father's company restored."

"And... unofficially?"

Chiyo put on her shoes and faced Tomo head on. "I'm going to change the world."

...

"Asagi?" Torako said. "Really?"

"Really," Asagi said, "The one and only. I've been waiting for you, Torako."

Torako looked around the neighborhood, and recognized it; it was the Ayase's old neighborhood. The same upper middle class houses, the brick fences and iron gates. The Koiwai's house, next door, with little Yotsuba. She's a teenager now, Torako thought. Let's see... fifteen, maybe sixteen years old.

"Hey," Asagi said. She leaned in front of Torako and waved her hand in her face. "Enough of that, Torako. No need to reminisce while I'm here. Really, I'm offended." Asagi cocked her head and faked hurt feelings. "I thought you'd be all over me."

"That was you," Torako said. "Am I... dead?"

Asagi looked at her thoughtfully. "Not yet," she said. "You got a little left, I think, but it won't be for long. Come on, people are waiting."

Torako followed Asagi over the soft sidewalk to the gate of her house. Asagi opened the gate and entered. Torako could hear voices inside the house, and joyous laughter.

Torako stopped at the threshold. Asagi turned around and grinned at her. She held out her hand.

"Come on, Torako," Asagi said.

"This is just a hallucination before I die," Torako said. "A dream made by my dying brain." And yet, Torako grasped Asagi's hand, and Asagi pulled her past the gate. Torako felt great joy.

...

Torako's cigarette smoldered, fell out of her mouth, and landed in the sticky puddle of blood. The flame was extinguished. All that was left was her murderer lingering over her, as her lungs let out one last breath.

...

"Change the world?" Tomo snorted. "Oh come on, how can you do that?"

"I studied what I thought I needed to study," Chiyo said, putting on her hat. "I also have a Ph.D. in Economics, with an emphasis on game theory. I'm changing the world from the top down, starting with how it's run. We've become too decadent. Rain of Terra is the best chance I have of putting my ideas into play, if I can kick the psychos and bitter old fogeys out."

"Kill them, you mean."

"Of course not," Chiyo said. "They're too busy killing each other."

Tomo felt physical revulsion, and didn't pursue the subject. Chiyo exited Tomo's apartment, her hat on her head and her glasses in her purse. She let her long amber hair out, instead of stuffing it under her hat. Tomo followed her to the elevator, and Chiyo pressed the button.

Chiyo turned to Tomo. "I don't really want you to kill yourself," she said.

"That's nice," Tomo said. "Sake getting to you?"

"Probably," Chiyo said. "I came here wanting to hurt you. I wanted you to feel the same despair I did. But you've changed... I've built you up as some monster in my mind over the years, but you aren't a monster. You're just weak."

"Gee, thanks," Tomo said, rolling her eyes. "That really means a lot, coming from a stuck-up brat like you. How do I know you haven't lied to me this whole time?"

"You don't," Chiyo said. "And I'm not going to bother to tell you. I just want you to remember this; the reason I am what I am today, is because of you. Because of what you did."

"Great," Tomo muttered.

"I believe you want to make amends," Chiyo said. "So this is what I want you to do. I want you to live. I want you to live, for as long as you're supposed to, with what you did. I want you to ponder over it, and use it as a warning on how to behave in the future. Never forget it. It'll be your scarlet letter."

Tomo turned to face Chiyo. "Chiyo? I know what you mean. But you have to understand, coming from you, what you are now... well... I have a hard time taking your morally superior attitude seriously. It's hypocritical."

"You're probably right," Chiyo said. "I don't hate you anymore, Tomo. If we're lucky, we'll never see each other again." The elevator chimed, and the doors opened. "Bye Tomo," Chiyo said, as she stepped in.

"Bye Chiyo," Tomo said, walking away.

"Tomo," Chiyo said. Tomo turned around. Chiyo stood in the elevator, her face ghostly pale.

"You're right," Chiyo said. "I can't be in an organization like this, and not expect to be sullied. I... I've made... a terrible mistake."

"Oh yeah?" Tomo said, wondering what silliness Chiyo was going to depart with. "What would that be?"

As she pressed the button for the lobby, Chiyo said, "I allowed the murder of Asagi Ayase." Her pale face disappeared behind the closing doors, and the elevator descended through the lower levels.

"Chiyo!" Tomo shouted. She ran to the elevator doors and jabbed the call button. She slammed her fist into the door out of frustration. "You said you weren't a murderer, Chiyo!"

Tomo ran down the hall toward the stairwells. She made a sharp turn at the end of the hall and fell over, slamming into the wall.

"Ow," she said, struggling to get up. "Too much sake."

She got to her feet and hit the stairwell, grabbing the cold metal banister tight while running down stairs as fast as she could. She didn't risk jumping. She made it to the bottom and burst into the lobby.

She ran to the elevators and smashed all the call buttons. The elevator Chiyo was in opened, but it was empty. Did I get the right elevator? Tomo thought. The other two opened, both empty.

Tomo ran out of the lobby into the street, turning in all directions. She did not see the amber hair, the black dress, or the wide hat. Chiyo had disappeared.

...

Her conscience boiling within her, Tomo called the police and made her report, detailing everything she heard. There, I made a report, Tomo thought. Let's see if that gets anything to happen.

She spent most of the day pacing up and down the neighborhood, trying to burn up the mad energy within her. She usually slept during the day due to her night shift, but she could only stare wide-eyed at the ceiling. She had time to spend, so she went to a doctor to get her nose checked. The doctor said only a part of the cartilage had broken. He gave her some decongestants and pain killers to help while it healed.

Tomo tried to watch a movie, but her mind wandered too much. She hit an arcade, but was too riled up to memorize the pattern of the shooter she was playing. Thoughts surged within her, her conversation with Chiyo a jumble of phrases. The phrases built a path in her mind, but she ignored it. She sensed where it would end, not in words, but in feelings. The rest of the day up to her shift was spent in front of the television, doing what she could to quiet her mind. The sky darkened, and Tomo got ready to go to work.

...

"'Sup Tomo," Danube said as she marched into the kitchen. "A little early today."

"Yeah, I'm going to prep," Tomo said, as she put her purse up. She had carried a wallet for so long that using a purse seemed weird to her. She wasn't able to use a purse while she was on the force, as it was too cumbersome.

Danube studied her face. "You okay? You, uh, look different."

"Bunch of stuff happened today," Tomo said, getting turkey out for finger sandwiches.

"So you're not on drugs."

"No!" Tomo shouted.

"Hey, just checking," Danube said as we walked back to his office.

"Ha, more like you were hoping I was on drugs so you could buy some from me," Tomo said, picking up a hefty slicer. "Like I'd ever-"

_I'm sorry, Tomo._

Tomo gasped and dropped the slicer. It clattered on the floor with a metallic racket. She stood, stiff, in the middle of the floor.

Danube rushed out of his office. "Tomo? Are you okay?" He walked over and grasped her shoulders. "Tomo? Are you having a seizure? Tomo!"

Tomo moved her head toward Danube. "I've got to go," she said. She ducked from his hands and ran out of the door.

Danube followed her. "Tomo! What's going on!"

Tomo stopped, and ran back.

"Danube!" she shouted. "Go back inside! Hurry, hurry!" She pushed him along.

"Okay, don't shove," he said, trotting ahead of her. "What's the deal?"

"Find out what koban Torako von Wallenstein is in!"

"What-?"

"Call the Traffic Information Bureau! Look up their number! Hurry, hurry!"

...

The Kanda district.

Tomo hailed a taxi and gave him the exact address. She should've realized she'd be in Jichiro's old koban. The taxi driver drove along while Tomo nearly disintegrated her seat from fidgeting. She looked ahead and gasped.

"What's that!" She said, pointing ahead.

"Looks like police lights," the taxi driver said.

"Stop here! Pull over!" Tomo dug into her purse and thrust a fistful of yen at the driver.

"Thanks for the tip!" he said, as Tomo slammed the door and ran toward the koban. She choked back a sob, because she knew what had happened.

She ran past the two police cars. An ambulance pulled away from the curb, its lights turned off. She burst into the koban and saw a tearful Jichiro, clutching his hat, sitting between two detectives. She recognized them from the Manseibashi police station.

"Mr. Jichiro!"

"Hey, get out of here!" One of the detectives said. "No civilians allowed! Can't you read?"

"It's okay," Jichiro said. "Let her in."

Tomo pushed past the two detectives and squatted in front of Jichiro. "Mr. Jichiro, what happened?"

Jichiro shook his head.

"Officer Torako was shot and killed," one of the detectives said.

Tomo clutched the tails of her coat and bit her lip. She did everything in her power to swallow the sob growing in her breast. "How," she choked out.

"She was shot," Jichiro said. "I was out on my rounds. One of the local officers found her when he was looking for me. They think I killed her, Tomo! Why would I do that? I loved her like my daughter."

One of the detectives cleared his throat. "We're not accusing you," he said. "You're just a suspect."

Tomo shook her head. "He would never kill her," Tomo said. She stood up. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jichiro."

"They wouldn't even let me look at her when they carried her out," Jichiro said, grinding his hat in his hands. "To see her one last time."

Tomo's eyes narrowed, and she gained control over the wail trying to creep out. "You didn't see her body?"

"No," he said. His eyes narrowed as well.

"Where is the body being taken?"

"That's enough," one of the detectives said.

"1630 building, the police morgue there," Jichiro said.

"Thank you!" Tomo said.

"Hold on a moment," one of the detectives said. "We need to take you in."

"What? I didn't do anything!"

The other detective put a hand on her shoulder, and Tomo bolted.

...

She took the same taxi to the morgue, this time paying her fare exactly. The taxi driver didn't mouth off about the lack of tip, but grimaced and drove away.

Tomo entered the building, walking past the protesting secretary. Tomo marched into the cold, sterile morgue, and saw two autopsy technicians talking to each other in low, hushed tones. Both clammed up when Tomo entered.

"Torako von Wallenstein. Policewoman. Where is she?"

The technicians glanced at each other.

"The new body!" Tomo shouted. "Where is it?"

"Um, Ms. Torako was just delivered. We need to prep-"

Tomo stomped toward the technicians, her fists clenched. She made for the one that flinched. "Where is she!"

"Don't," the other technician said, but he glanced at one of the cold chambers.

"Ha!" Tomo said, and she rushed at the chamber, and saw Torako von Wallenstein, ink barely dry, on a tag placed in a window. Her heart sank as she grabbed the handle and pulled the chamber open.

"Stop!" One of the technicians said.

Tomo held her breath, grabbed the zipper of the black body bag, and ripped it down. Inside was... a man. Tomo exhaled. The man had a beard. Who is this? I've seen him before. She saw a nasty scar down the middle of his upper lip, as if it had been cut straight through.

"Ryo Watanabe," she said out loud. She slammed the chamber shut and glared at the technicians.

"Was a woman brought in here?" she shouted. "Where is she?"

The braver technician held out two hands, trying to calm the raging inferno in front of him. "Ms. Takino, let's be reasonable."

"I am being reasonable!" Tomo shouted. "Where-" How does he know my name, she thought. I didn't tell him!

She ran to the swinging doors. The technician stepped in front of her, so she smashed her fist into his stomach. He doubled over, and Tomo grabbed the hair on the back of his head and slammed his head into her knee, rising up to meet him. He fell to the floor. She blasted through the swinging doors, and ran past the secretary, who was babbling on a phone. She lurched out of the building and ducked into an alley when she heard blaring sirens getting louder and louder as they bore down on the building.

...

Torako took Asagi's hand, and felt great joy. She led Torako through the entrance.

"I tried hard to find your murderer," Torako said. "It seems so inconsequential, now."

"It is," Asagi said with a laugh. "It doesn't matter. You and Tomo did your best."

_Tomo._

Torako jerked her hand away from Asagi, and Asagi turned around, puzzlement on her face.

"Torako?"

"I can't be here," Torako said, shaking her head.

"Torako, where else are you going to be?"

"I've got to go back," Torako said. "I need to help Tomo."

"Torako, you burned that bridge already!" Asagi said.

"Did that matter with you?" Torako said. "Why would it be any different with Tomo?"

"Tomo can take care of herself," Asagi said. "Besides, she has Osaka."

_Osaka._

"I've got to go back," Torako said. "There's too much to do. I have a responsibility."

"Your responsibilities are over!" Asagi said. She grabbed Torako's shoulder before she could step outside the gate. "You can be with me now! Why do you want to go back to that rotten old world?"

Torako turned toward Asagi. "Asagi, I loved you the day I saw you. I never stopped loving you. I never will stop loving you. But my responsibility is with the living now. Not the dead." Torako let out a laugh. "You know, it's funny. I'm an only child, but now I have these two wonderful, beautiful, maddening sisters. And I can't leave them now."

Asagi gently grabbed Torako's shoulders, and moved her toward her. "Torako," Asagi said. "You aren't going to make it."

Torako shook her head. "I've got to try," she said. "I can't remember much now. It's getting fuzzy. I don't know what's out there for me, but I've got to go back. I'd never forgive myself if I don't try."

Asagi moved her hands to Torako's face. Asagi grinned, wide and beautiful.

"Go get them, Tiger," she said, and the golden sun turned black.

...

The last breath from Torako's lungs sputtered, and became the first. Torako opened her eyes and breathed heavily, gulping the stale, cold air. She still couldn't focus her eyes, but she saw the shadow squatting over her.

The shadow whistled in admiration. "I am deeply impressed," the shadow said. "Everyone else would've died of shock by now, but you fought back. Of course, you'll die of shock eventually. You can't live much longer, considering the rate of your blood loss. I give you... twenty minutes?"

The shadow laughed. Torako's eyes gained focus, and she saw who it was. He laughed when he saw the recognition in her eyes. "I can't wait for you to die, so I hope you'll forgive me for speeding things along."

He stood up. "Good day, Torako," he said, and he aimed his gun at her head.


	26. Chapter 26

Tomo ran through the dark and dirty alley, trying to escape the sirens as they pulled up to the 1630 building. She tripped over a young and mangy man who looked like he got second place in a knife-stabbing contest. She corrected her course and tossed a "Sorry!" over her shoulder.

"Meh," the man said, as he took a swig out of a wine bottle.

Tomo reached the end of the alley and applied the brakes, her shoes squeaking at her sudden stop. She bent over to catch her breath, her palms pressed against her knees. The cold made her breath like vapor. She had been walking to work for the last two months, and had built up stamina better than what she had in her old bus travelling days. She still wasn't a marathon runner, though.

She straightened up. "Wait a minute," she said out loud. "How do I know they're after me?" She pulled out her cell phone and called the _Steam Donkey_.

Danube answered after three rings. "Hello?"

"Danube," Tomo said, "could you do me a favor?"

"Tomo, what did you do?" Danube whispered. "Two detectives are here asking about you."

"That was the favor I needed, thanks!" Tomo said, and she closed her phone shut.

Dammit, she thought. Why are they after me? She sat down on the alley floor and leaned against the sweaty brick building. She felt she was concealed well enough in the shadows from the street the alley emptied into, a not too busy commercial street pocketed with locally owned stores. The faint news broadcast from a pub flitted through the alley.

She traced the events of the day like roads on a map, roads that lead to the twin villages Anger and Confusion. Okay, so Torako was, allegedly, shot, she thought. Ryo Watanabe, former detective on Chiyo's little group's payroll, was purposely misidentified as Torako. The morgue techs lied about her being brought in. So she's either still alive, but missing, or she's dead, but her death is being covered up.

Tomo assumed that Ryo Watanabe was the one that killed, or attempted to kill, Torako, but was killed himself. Her face scrunched like wrinkled bed sheets as she tried to remember what he looked like, laying cold in that morgue. His head looked intact, and I couldn't identify any wounds, she thought. He was definitely dead, though. How was he killed?

She stood up and decided to risk walking in public. I can't stay here forever, she thought. She knew she couldn't go back to work, or to her apartment. She walked across the street, watching the pedestrians carefully for any nervous or knowing glance directed her way. They ignored her, and Tomo decided she was okay.

She entered the pub where the newscast was floating from, and sat down near the kitchen entrance. She ordered a beef bowl with green tea. Her attention was divided amongst her food, the entrance of the pub and the news on the television. The news she was dreading finally appeared. She put her chopsticks down and she watched the report.

"A tragic event occurred at a koban in the northwestern section of the Kanda neighborhood today, as traffic officer Torako von Wallenstein was murdered in cold blood." Torako's dour expression, taken for her ID badge, was shown on the screen. Tomo watched the newscast with a trembling stomach. She grasped her teacup and lifted it to her mouth. She dropped it on the table when her picture flashed on the screen.

"Wanted for the murder is former police officer Tomo Takino, whose whereabouts are currently unknown."

Tomo jumped out of her seat and sprinted into the kitchen, slamming the double doors wide open. She ignored the confused stares of the cooks, and angry shout of the chef, as she made for the back entrance and ran out into a busy street.

Crap! Tomo thought, as she dodged through the pedestrians. The neon lit signs cast an inhuman glow on the oily street, and the conversations of hundreds of people blended into a bubbling cauldron that disoriented Tomo. Chiyo's voice came into her mind, saying, 'The reason I am what I am today is because of you.'

Tomo ducked into an alley and hid next to a dumpster, and sunk to the ground. Chiyo couldn't have done this, Tomo thought. Tomo had the feeling that Chiyo experienced, if not reconciliation, at least resignation toward Tomo's past misdeed at the beach house. Was she lying to confuse me? Stupid Chiyo.

'I allowed the murder of Asagi Ayase.' 'I knew it was you from the beginning.' Tomo, her defenses down from fear and anger, followed the path her mind had shoved aside.

If Chiyo is who she is today because of me... then maybe Asagi never would have been murdered. And if she had never been murdered, then Rico-

Tomo pushed that aside with a violent shaking of her head. "She's responsible for her own actions," she said aloud. Besides, Tomo thought, Asagi was living a dangerous life. She would have been murdered anyway.

Tomo got to her feet. I can't run forever, she thought. I have to end this.

Tomo, of course, didn't know where Chiyo was, and she didn't want to hunt down Zhang Ping and Mr. Mainichi. However, there was one person she could target, someone responsible for a large part of this mess. She pulled out her cell phone, punched the number for police directory service. She punched in Torako's code, assuming that she hadn't been removed from the system yet. She spoke the name of the person she wanted. Directory dialed the number, and he answered.

"Hello?"

"Otomo," Tomo said. "Let's talk."

"Who is this?" he said.

"Meet me at your office. I'll be there in an hour. No tricks."

There was a pause at the other end, and then a chuckle. "What if I don't want to meet you? I can't be seen comporting with a wanted criminal."

"I'll find you," Tomo said. "We'll talk regardless. I'll be in your office. If you aren't there-" and she hung up the phone. Let him eat on that, she thought.

...

It was past 2300 hours, and Tomo made the best use of darkness and shadow that she could. She crept toward the back of the building housing Oda's office, an evil concrete slab of such brutal design that Le Corbusier himself would've vomited upon seeing it. It overlooked Hibiya Park, which was illuminated by the ghostly glow of low wattage lamps.

Tomo snuck to the service entrance next to a battered dumpster and used her lock-picking kit to break in. She shut the metal door behind her and stood in the bright white hallway used primarily by the janitor and people sneaking in to avoid a write-up for being late. She took a deep breath, strolled toward the service elevator, hit the call button, entered it, and punched button number three. She made sure to smile and wave at the security camera before exiting the floor.

Tomo had whipped up her confidence the best way she could, convincing herself that she could talk her way out of anything, and escape any trap when the time came. The thought that Oda Otomo wouldn't be in his office flittered at the edge of her thoughts, but she had a backup plan concerning thievery and destruction. Deep down, she knew this was crazy and stupid, but, as usual, she ignored the voice of reason.

The light in his office was on, shining through the thick glass of his door. She grabbed the handle and pushed the door in.

Oda Otomo stood at the window, looking down at Hibiya Park.

Tomo, standing in the doorway, pulled out her bokken. "This better not be a trap."

"No trap," he said, staring down into the park. He turned around and flashed his winning smile at Tomo. "Come on in," he said. His smile widened. "May I serve you some tea?"

Tomo stepped in. She made quick glances at her left and her right, making sure no one was hiding. She kicked the door shut with her foot.

Oda Otomo walked toward his desk.

"Get away," Tomo said, as she rushed toward Oda. Oda reached down and picked up a scabbard, unsheathing his katana. Tomo stopped and jumped back.

"This is a little insurance," he said, holding the sword downward. "Just in case you were thinking of attacking me."

"I can still beat a coked-out weasel like you," Tomo said.

"Who are you, Musashi? Is that your oar?" Oda had the balanced stance of a practiced sword expert, and Tomo noticed this. She held her bokken in front of her, the tip pointing at Oda.

"Why am I being framed?" Tomo said. "Are you responsible?"

"Framed? Who's being framed? You killed Torako."

Tomo's grip tightened. "Where is her body?"

"I imagine at a morgue," Oda said.

"She isn't, I checked," Tomo said. "Ryo Watanabe is in her place."

Oda's smile faltered. It was subtle, but Tomo caught it. She made a hunch.

"You don't know where Torako is," Tomo said. "A big dumb plot to kill her, and now you don't even have the body. Moron, can't even do that right."

"What's with the insults?" Oda said. "I'm sure we can be civil about this."

"I know Watanabe killed Asagi," Tomo said. "Chiyo told me."

Oda stopped smiling. He gripped the handle tightly, and it creaked with woody friction. Tomo wondered if she made a mistake mentioning Chiyo.

"That's not good," Oda said, through clenched teeth.

"You're the one that tried to have me killed at the Kujukuri beach house. But somehow, the lines of communication got screwed and Miruchi ended up getting murdered."

"By your hand," Oda said.

"I know that story," Tomo said, cutting him off. "You hold no secrets over me. You tried to make up for it by sending in Section One – and I know it was Section One – to kill me for good. I managed to get out of that. You played that video of me drugged, threatening people with a gun to cover up the whole beach house incident. And then, worst of all, you murder Aya Suzuki."

The few lines on Oda's young face tightened. "I did not kill her."

Tomo rolled her eyes. "Do you ever stop lying? You had her killed in yet another attempt to throw blame on me. It was reported as a suicide, but that was a third party messing with the crime scene."

"What do you mean?"

"People I know," Tomo said, thinking of Osaka and Alekhine. "They're watching out for me. I don't deserve it... but they forged a suicide note. I'm sure it was him. He tampered with the crime scene..." Tomo trailed off. She was hazy on that part of her theory. What if it wasn't Alekhine? Osaka may not have forged the suicide note, but what if _he_ did? Then they were responsible for tampering with a crime scene. Maybe, legally, they were able to do that due to them working with the Ministry of Defense. National security is the excuse given for that sort of thing. But ethically... people think Aya killed Miruchi and then herself over a lovers tryst, when she was actually murdered. And that wasn't right.

"Ms. Mihama knows more than she lets on," Oda said.

"Chiyo? She was just as vague as you are. I figured most of this out myself."

Oda smiled. It wasn't his charismatic smile, readymade for the camera, but a sinister, mocking smile. "Did she tell you her part in Asagi's murder?"

Tomo swallowed. "She said she allowed it to happen."

Oda laughed. "Allowed? Is that the word she used? Ms. Takino! She was in the room and watched it happen!"

Seeing Tomo's baffled look, Oda continued. "She owns the hotel through a dummy corporation. Don't worry about poor detective work, it was buried so deep you two never would have found out. She got the room for Ms. Ayase after her failed kidnapping of my dearly departed secretary."

"Why did Asagi kidnap Aya Suzuki?" Tomo said. She moved away from the door, not letting her bokken point away from Oda. "We figured she did, but couldn't figure out why."

"Ms. Mihama and Mr. Ping fed Ms. Ayase false information concerning myself," Oda said. "They led Ms. Ayase to believe that I was plotting her downfall. Ayase, of course, fell for it and made an ass of herself in the process. She harassed Mr. Mainichi's men in Ueno Park, while they were engaged in exchanging the bribe money he passes to politicians. Great work breaking that up, by the way. I detest dishonesty in politics."

"Oh ha ha, very clever," Tomo said. "Now get on with it!"

"Zhang Ping was in on it as well," Oda said. "A fake raid was done on a gambling den in Ueno, a district Asagi once ruled with an iron fist. Both Zhang Ping and Ms. Mihama – Asagi's two trusted underlings, her left-hand man and right-hand woman – placed the blame on me. Asagi kidnapped Ms. Suzuki in retaliation, and possibly as a bargaining chip. A stupid move, one I don't understand. Then, of course, you and Ms. Torako come in."

Oda moved toward the window. He kept his scabbard and katana in the same positions, and moved his feet like a trained warrior. He did not break his gaze from Tomo.

"Watanabe and Saito were duped into harassing Ms. Ando for control of Asagi's dens in Ueno. I believe Zhang Ping was responsible for that move. Ms. Ayase would hear about it, of course, and her distrust of me would increase. She still had some power in Taito, and had the two arrested for corruption charges. And then, miracle of miracles, you two break up the kidnapping and rescue Ms. Suzuki. With nowhere else to go, Asagi hides out in one of Ms. Mihama's hotels."

Oda's pause stretched on.

"And then?" Tomo said.

"My throat hurts. Just a moment."

"Get some water," Tomo said. "Put down your sword."

Oda backed into his private bathroom. Without once moving his sword away or breaking his gaze from Tomo, he flicked on the light, turned on the water, grabbed a paper cup, and went through the motions of getting his drink. When he finished, he put the cup on the sink and turned off the water. He turned off the light when he exited the bathroom.

"So, as I was saying," he said, "Asagi thinks she's being hidden by her dear, trusted friend and student, Chiyo Mihama. Ms. Mihama comes in and talks to her. Shortly afterwards, Ms. Mihama lets Watanabe in, and he kills her. Ms. Mihama watches. Problem solved, they both leave."

Tomo shook her head. "That's not true!" she said. "She never appeared on the security footage."

"Neither did Watanabe, but you know he killed her," Oda said. "An abandoned subway utility tunnel runs under that hotel. It empties into the boiler room. You can only find it if you know what to look for. Ms. Mihama and Watanabe used it to enter and exit the hotel. No security cameras there."

"I don't believe you," Tomo said. There was still the matter of Chiyo calling from the Tokyo Station. There was no way she could've gotten to the station from the hotel in such a short period of time. Tomo wasn't going to reveal that, though.

"I don't care what you believe," Oda said. "Now are you going to point that stick at me all night?"

"I'm calling the cops," Tomo said.

Oda raised an eyebrow. "You're wanted for murder. And you're threatening me with your sword. That's not a smart move."

"I don't care," Tomo said. "I don't care if I get arrested or not. I'm tired. Torako is... I have nothing else. I'm turning you in."

Tomo fished in her pocket for her cell phone, keeping her eyes on Oda, her sword pointed with her free hand.

His movement was imperceptible and swift, but he was attacking a woman with anger in her heart and the reaction time of a puff adder. His scabbard knocked the phone out of her hand, but she jumped out of the way of his katana. While stuck in the end of his failed strike pose, Tomo swung her bokken. Oda made a faulty block with his scabbard, but Tomo's powerful swing knocked it out of his hand.

They jumped away.

"Bastard!" Tomo shouted. She saw Oda trying to make toward his desk, so she moved to block him off. She detected a shift in his stance, and lunged like a fencer. He swatted her attack away with his sword.

They circled each other, Tomo trying to cut him off from the door. "You know, there's something I forgot to tell you," he said, as he lowered his sword. "About when Torako got shot."

Tomo hesitated. "What?"

Oda delivered his magnificent, boyish, and charismatic smile, and said, "She cried like a little bitch."

With a scream Tomo lunged forward, her bokken coming down like a runaway horse galloping down a mountain. Oda swung his sword vertically across her body.

Tomo jerked her bokken in time to block the blow. Oda's katana sliced neatly through her bokken, rending it in half in a clean, splinterless cut, the top half flying across the room and bouncing off the window. Tomo's shirt parted at the stomach as his sword continued its swing. She knew she was cut badly before she felt the pain.

She continued her own strike, however, and the cut half of her sword smashed into Oda's exposed throat. Oda gagged and fell backwards, dropping his katana at the shock of the blow.

Air touched Tomo's wound, and pain nearly as bad as her torture burned into her brain. She dropped her sliced bokken and grasped her stomach with both hands as blood seeped through her fingers. She inhaled a long, sharp, and ghostly sounding gasp as Oda rolled on the floor, holding his throat and gagging.

Tomo let out a cry as she rushed out of the office. Oda staggered to his feet and made raspy hacking sounds like a hyena choking on carrion. He exited his office and followed the blood trail outside into the frozen night.

"Tomo," he shouted, as loud as his damaged voice would let him. "You can't hide. It's over for you." He stood in front of his office, rubbing his throat and staring into dark nothing, before turning back in to the hulking concrete slab. "And I didn't kill Aya," he muttered.

...

Sakaki bent down to watch a shy Welsh Corgi puppy play with its empty water dish.

"What's gotten into you, Wan Wan?" Sakaki said, tapping the cage. Wan Wan wagged her tail and pounced on the bars of the cage, the puppy's white bandage wrapped tightly around her stomach. Sakaki tapped the bars of the cage with her fingers as Wan Wan tried to tap her hands with her paws.

Sakaki gently laughed to herself as she stood up. She wished her patients good night and dimmed the lights.

She found herself staying late recently, doing extra chores around the office, and sometimes just playing with the animals. She knew it was probably a symptom of some deeper problem – well, for one thing, she was lonely - but she didn't feel like dealing with that just now. She brushed her long black hair back with her fingers, and walked into her kitchen to shut down.

She heard a banging at her back door. Her ears perked as she walked cautiously toward the back. The door vibrated with another set of loud banging.

"Sakaki," a voice said.

Sakaki opened the door, and Tomo, pale faced, fell to the floor. Sakaki's eyes widened as she saw Tomo's blood stained hands wrapped around her stomach.

"It hurts," Tomo said. "Help."

"T-Tomo," Sakaki said. She went into professional mode and bent down over Tomo, putting her hand on her forehead. It was cold. "Tomo, you need to get to a hospital, now."

"No," Tomo said, her eyes pulsating with pain. "Cops... after me. Help."

"Tomo, I'm a vet," Sakaki said, as she pulled her cellphone out. "You know I can't help you. You have to go to the ER."

Tomo grasped the white sleeve of Sakaki's lab coat, staining it with blood. "No," Tomo said. "Help. Kagura... not your fault."

Sakaki stared down into Tomo's fear infested eyes. Tomo grabbed her hand. "Please," Tomo said. "No matter what happens... it's okay."

Sakaki swallowed. "Okay," she said. "Hold your wound tightly." She scooped Tomo up into her arms and carried her to her operating room.

...

The next day, to the first snowfall of the winter, Prime Minister Hitori Natsume was voted out of office due to the recently revealed scandal of his accepting bribes from the Chinese government. An emergency vote was held at the Diet, and Oda Otomo was voted in as the new Prime Minister of Japan; the youngest Prime Minister in Japanese history.

...

**A/N: **This is the beginning of the end with five, maybe six chapters left (it turned out to be twelve). This has been longer than it should be, with too many characters and subplots. I'd like to think I've learned something about writing, at least.


	27. Chapter 27

Yoshi woke up in his tent and shivered. He grabbed his battery-operated clock and read the dimly lit red display. 6:05. Great, he thought. I'm late.

He rolled out of his sleeping bag, felt the cold assault his body, shivered, and burrowed back into his sleeping bag. Maybe she isn't here, he thought. Please don't let her be here.

From outside his tent, in the cold stillness of his restaurant, he heard her voice.

"Yoshi, I know you're awake! I will come in there and drag you out, so you might as well get to cooking!"

Yoshi let out a long growl that cresendoed into an aggravated yell.

"It's that sort of attitude that shows me why you're homeless! If you'd channel all that griping into working, you'd be rich by now."

Yoshi took a deep breath and threw off the covers. He went to sleep fully dressed, except for his shoes, which he hastily put on. He unzipped the flap to his tent and stepped out into the dark morning.

Tomo sat at the kotatsu in the middle of his restaurant. "Well, it's about time."

He went to his makeshift kitchen, here under the blue tarp restaurant, and prepared to boil water. "What would you like?" he said.

"Scrambled eggs, American style biscuits with gravy, pancakes, waffles, maple syrup, bacon, sausage, assorted fruits, blueberry muffins, hash browns with cheddar and sautéed onions, baked beans, country ham, and coffee."

"How about fried rice with scrambled eggs and coffee?"

"What a letdown," Tomo said. She shrugged. "But hey, you're the cook. You know best."

...

Sakaki had done a masterful job of treating Tomo's stomach cut. She made a drip of saline solution and expertly cleaned and repaired Tomo's wound while she lay on her back in the exam room, a gibbering, drooling, and bleeding mess.

Tomo was completely unaware of the surgery being performed on her, as she was being faced with the infinite bleeding eyes of God spurting tesseracted and reflective fingers, all pointing at her, and a thunderous voice saying "YES, YOU." Sakaki had misjudged the amount of ketamine that was supposed to be given to a human, especially to one of Tomo's diminutive stature. Tomo was so far down the k-hole she could've caught on fire and not notice it.

Tomo was immediately flung into Hell for arbitrary reasons that were explained to her in mad, painful gibberish from a million chorusing angels floating in the golden aether, each angel singing a semi-tone off from the rest so that the heavenly chorus reached far above and below the hearing range of a normal human, except that Tomo was able to hear all ranges of sound. Hell was an empty janitorial closet with an old moldy mop standing in the corner, containing cardboard cutouts of flames painted by kindergarteners and crude dioramas of demons suspended in mid-flight, the string holding them up attached to the ceiling with scotch tape. The ceiling was dark and roiling clouds; the underbelly of heaven.

Without the booming voice of God and the heavenly choir, Tomo could hear the machinery of the universe breaking down, like gears grinding in a massive clock and steam pouring from a locomotive, and two voices talking about her.

"Hello?" Tomo said. The talking stopped.

"She can hear us," Osaka said.

"Osaka?" Tomo shouted. She kicked over one of the flames that had crawled toward her position, moved by a radio controlled 1980 Volkswagen Rabbit. The car hissed at her and drove away.

"Send the door for her," Alekhine said, "and insert this slot into that peg. I'll get a hammer."

"But the diagram shows a socket wrench-"

"I'll get a hammer!"

"Guys!" Tomo shouted. "Where are you!" Hell was tiny, and Tomo was able to cross it in two steps. She slammed the plaster wall with her fist, and one of the demons loosened from the ceiling and floated to the floor like a goose feather.

Tomo turned around and saw a door that wasn't there before, a narrow and tall door built to the golden ratio, made of polished walnut and green glowing uranium, designed in the art nouveau style. She bounded across hell and grabbed the ruby doorknob, opening the door and stepping through into Sakaki's living room.

It was dark, early morning, with the sun warming up for its battle across dreary clouds. The living room was made up in the style of the West, with a couch, a recliner, and a coffee table. In the recliner, sitting with her head propped on her hand, was an exhausted Sakaki.

The door had shut behind Tomo, and the glowing uranium cast a green neon light that illuminated nothing but itself. Tomo walked around the coffee table and carefully lay on the couch. She blinked her eyes, and moaned when she felt the pain.

"Tomo?" Sakaki said. She jerked out of her recliner and sat on the floor in front of Tomo.

Tomo moved her head, looking at Sakaki.

"Where am I?" Tomo said.

"You're in my house," Sakaki said. "On my couch. I gave you too much anesthetic. I didn't have anything to denature it, and I couldn't leave you at the clinic. How are you? Do I need to get you anything?"

"Water," Tomo said.

"I'll get you a little," Sakaki said. "You aren't going to be able to drink much." Sakaki disappeared, presumably into the kitchen. Tomo squinted at the faint outline of a door next to a glass sliding door showing Sakaki's snow-covered yard. She closed her eyes tightly and reopened them. The outline was gone.

"Weird," she said.

Sakaki returned with a pink plastic cup made for children, with a lazy white cat painted on the side. English was printed around the lip, "It is time to plant the seeds." Tomo took the cup and drained it of its paltry sip.

"I'll need to make you another saline solution," Sakaki said, tapping the line leading into Tomo's vein. Tomo hadn't noticed it before. "You're very fortunate. The cut went through your epidermal layer and fatty tissue, and partially cut your lower abdominal muscles. If it had gone any further, you'd probably be dead of peritonitis."

"That bad, huh?" Tomo said. "Hurts a lot."

"I'll give you some pain killers," Sakaki said. She stood up.

"Thanks Sakaki," Tomo said. "I owe you." She fell asleep before Sakaki could respond.

...

Sakaki stayed with her for the rest of that day. She called her assistant and told her she'd be out due to illness. Tomo noticed that simple lie made her blush and stammer.

Tomo mostly slept that day, sometimes waking up when Sakaki would feed her, or replace her bandages. She couldn't remember what she ate, or even what went on. She couldn't remember any dreams she had.

Tomo woke up again early next day, several hours before sunrise. A bag of saline solution was still attached to her, and Tomo was both thirsty and in need of performing her bathroom duties. She gingerly sat up as dizziness smacked her head around. After it got bored with that, Tomo slowly got on her feet.

Sakaki was asleep in the recliner with a thin stadium blanket covering her, displaying the logo of the Yakult Swallows. Tomo waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness before moving, because she didn't want to wake up the good doctor. She picked up the rack her saline solution was attached to, and carried it with her down the hall. She groped in darkness until she found the bathroom.

After she finished, she stood in front of the mirror and studied herself. She was in her t-shirt and boxers, and her face was pale and thin. I could be in a zombie movie, she thought. She hunted for a washcloth and washed her face.

She dried her hands and lifted her shirt. She undid the bandages and gauze, and exposed her wound.

The cut was below her navel, making her flat belly look like a smirking cyclops. It wasn't as big as Tomo imagined it to be – the sword felt like it had cut through her entire waist – but it was ugly and red.

I have so many scars, Tomo thought, thinking about the scars on her back from her whipping. She wrapped up the bandage again, and studied her face. Well, I don't have any there, she thought. Those cuts healed well. No one would ever want to see me naked, though. Or in a swimsuit.

She angrily flicked the light switch. So what, she thought, as she carried her saline rack into the hall, taking small, shuffling steps. I'm not damaged goods. I could still get a guy, if I really wanted to.

The clouds parted and a moonlight glow crept into the hall, sneaking through the doorway joining the hallway with Sakaki's living room. Tomo glanced at the pictures on the wall illuminated by the moon light, and went into the living room. She stopped, turned around, and went back to stare at the pictures.

Her first thought was laced with confusion; why did Sakaki cosplay like she was in the Self-Defense Force? Probably some weekend airsoft contest, she thought, although Tomo couldn't see that happening either. The realization that Sakaki actually was in the SDF shocked Tomo as if she had licked a car battery.

Tomo studied the pictures intently. There was one of Sakaki in her dress uniform, with the insignia of a warrant officer. Another picture had her out in the field wearing muddy fatigues and holding an HK Minimi machine gun, scowling at the camera. One showed her in a lab coat with a mule, another with a cow.

Tomo shook her head in amazement. The SDF was officially not cute, and Sakaki being a part of the military showed, to Tomo, an unexpected aspect of her character. She almost wanted to wake her up and ask about it, but she restrained herself. She was too tired, anyway. She padded to her sofa and went to sleep.

...

Several hours later Tomo awoke, and was able to move around with minimal pain. Sakaki begged her to stay at her house, and call her at the clinic if anything went wrong.

"Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Um, I kinda need new clothes," Tomo said. "Toothbrush, stuff like that. But listen, I don't need to be here. You could get in trouble."

"I'm really sorry about Torako, Tomo. I was a little intimidated by her, but I know you two were more than just partners."

"Yeah," Tomo said. She swallowed.

"And I know you didn't kill her. Don't worry about that with me."

"Thanks Sakaki," Tomo said. "There's some other things, though."

"Did you attack the Prime Minister?"

"No... wow, the Prime Minister got attacked?"

Sakaki nodded. "The new one, Oda Otomo." She was taken aback by the disgust and shock contorting Tomo's face.

"What?" Tomo shouted. She then clutched her stomach and moaned in pain. "Ow, ow ow."

Sakaki explained the occurrences in the Diet while Tomo was recuperating, news concerning the resignation of the former Prime Minister due to corruption charges, and Oda Otomo's ascension.

Tomo's eyes darted away. "It was self-defense," she said. "Police stuff." She laughed, and looked at Sakaki. "I'm still playing detective even though I was fired. Pretty sad if you think about it."

"No," Sakaki said. "It was your dream. Don't give it up, Tomo, keep trying to reach it. You could be a private eye, if you wanted to."

"I don't know," Tomo said. "I'd have to get police permission, and I wouldn't be doing crime busting. Just divorce stuff, yeck."

"It's still something to consider," Sakaki said. "Insurance companies hire private investigators for fraud cases." She sat down at the end of the couch, and Tomo scooted up to give her more room. "I didn't give up when I wanted to be a vet, and it looked like no one would hire me."

"Is that why you joined the SDF?"

Sakaki smiled. "I wondered if you had noticed those pictures. Yes, I graduated college and was in the SDF for four years. I worked with the base veterinarian, treating pack mules and tracking dogs, sometimes helping at the military farm. I volunteered to help with the pets the troops at the base had, for free. I built up enough clout where I was able to start my own clinic."

Sakaki looked at Tomo and continued in her soft, soothing voice. "I'm in the reserves now. I go to Hokkaido every four months for training."

Tomo eyed Sakaki warily. "The SDF was your only choice after... after what happened, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Sakaki said. She looked away. "I had the highest grades in my class, but I wasn't graduated magna cum laud. I wasn't even allowed to graduate with my class. They just mailed me my diploma. No clinic wanted to hire me. The SDF was the only place I could go, that would let me treat animals."

Tomo put her hand on Sakaki's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Sakaki. It was all my fault."

Sakaki shook her head. "You already apologized, Tomo, and I forgave you. You don't have to apologize again. It was my fault too. I overstepped my bounds... I thought I could set her broken leg. I was so foolish." She let out a laugh, bitter like old medicine. "A third year veterinarian student. What was I thinking?"

On the tip of Tomo's tongue was the story of her running into Chiyo, but she didn't want to share it just yet. She wondered if Sakaki would even be able to take it right now.

Sakaki stood up. "Don't worry about getting me in trouble. No one knows you're here. Just please stay here as long as you can."

"When can my stitches come out?"

"I used absorbable sutures for your abdominal muscle," Sakaki said. "I'll need to smuggle you back to the clinic in a couple of days to X-ray that. Your stomach sutures can come out in six more days, maybe even less. I'm impressed with how quickly it's healing. Just a moment."

Sakaki went into one of the back rooms and came back with a large cotton ball, an antiseptic wipe, and medical tape. She gently took Tomo's wrist and pulled the IV needle out of the vein, her movement smooth and painless like silk across a baby's cheek. She cleaned and taped up the exposed vein.

"You don't need the saline solution anymore," Sakaki said, standing up. "But please drink a lot of water, and be sure to take those antibiotics I left for you on the kitchen table. There's also some decongestants that fell out of your purse."

"Oh yeah!"

"You can move off of the couch to the guest bedroom. And call me if you feel any new pain. You're welcome to eat anything I have."

"Thanks Sakaki," Tomo said. "I'm not going to be able to clean up after myself, though, being sick and all."

"Um..."

"Just kidding," Tomo said. "Hey, while I'm here could I use your bath?"

...

Three days later, Tomo received her X-ray and was given a clean bill of health by Dr. Sakaki. She removed Tomo's stitches and gave her instructions on keeping her wound clean.

"There's no need for me to keep you," Sakaki said, "but you are welcome to stay as long as you want."

"I can't," Tomo said, looking up at the X-ray of her belly. A neat scar was across her muscle tissue, but there was no bleeding or infection, and the sutures had been completely absorbed without any sort of rejection by her body. "I've taken advantage of you too long. I have to get going."

"Please keep in touch with me," Sakaki said. "I mean it. I'm glad... I'm really glad we're friends again."

"Me too," Tomo said, looking up at the blushing Sakaki. Tomo wanted to hug her, but the traditional ice queen would recoil at the touch, and then both of them would feel embarrassed and awkward. So Tomo took a deep, but careful, bow. "Thanks for your friendship, Sakaki."

Blushing deeply, Sakaki bowed back and mumbled something incomprehensible. That was okay, because Tomo knew what she meant.

...

Tomo showed up at the Ueno Park homeless community later that day. Sakaki had taken her request for clothes seriously, and had purchased her a modest wardrobe that Tomo carried in a military sack, hauled over her back. Tomo felt a little guilty for getting Sakaki wrapped up in her problems, and promised herself that she'd pay her back one day... although she had no idea how she could even begin to do so. Tomo took up residence in an abandoned tarp home when its previous occupant managed to find housing he could afford in a closet-sized room in a low rent apartment.

She was the only female in the camp, and the men didn't know what to do with her. Yoshi, of course, treated her the same way he treated everyone else; with humble and reserved respect. She proved to be his best customer, if there is such a thing at restaurant that doesn't charge for its wares. The rest of the homeless men, remembering her from her police days, either ignored her or sneered at her behind her back.

Old man Jichiro would occasionally visit, and was delighted, albeit worried, to find Tomo still free from jail. He ignored his police duties to arrest her, and kept her informed of goings on. His friendly treatment of Tomo went a long way to convincing the rest of the camp not to treat her as an outcast.

"They interviewed me as a suspect, and let me go," Jichiro told her the day they saw each other again. "They already had you pegged for the murder, so they just went through the motions with me. I was afraid they were going to dump me due to the old Burakumin prejudice. Chief Akiyama ain't around anymore to protect me from that. But I'm still working there, and the neighborhood folks treat me okay."

"Well, that's real cool," Tomo said. "I mean, you not getting fired. My situation kinda sucks."

"I know that, young lady," Jichiro said. "You're handling this great, all things considered." He promised to keep her informed of anything involving her case. Meanwhile, Jichiro told Tomo that Ms. Ando had passed away.

...

So Yoshi served her a fried egg (he misjudged the eggs he had left) and a bowl of fried rice, in addition to some orange juice, and bitter, robust coffee made from a stainless steel percolator whose history could be traced back to the American occupation. McArthur threw it against the wall when he discovered the extent of the mass rape in Nagoya. It made a dent in the percolator, and was discarded. It passed through many hands until Yoshi found it in a garbage dump outside of Nerima. He didn't know the story, of course. He just knew it made coffee.

Tomo was bundled up in a thick down jacket and a scarf, as well as a winter fleece hat displaying a sleepy mole lying on a pile of dirt. Tomo knew she shouldn't complain about Sakaki's choices in clothing, but it was weird.

She shivered. "Think you could get a heater on in here? This kotatsu isn't enough."

"I turned one on when I got up," Yoshi said. "I could use more, though. It's supposed to be a bitter cold winter, from what I've heard."

"I think it's already started," Tomo said. She shivered and drank down her coffee.

Several other members of the community showed up and Yoshi served their breakfast as well. The hot coffee and close company warmed everyone up, and Tomo was better able to deal with the cold.

The flaps keeping the warmth in and cold out were thrown open. There stood a winded Jichiro, frantically searching the premises.

"Tomo!" he shouted. He ran into the middle of the restaurant, careful not to trip over the men sitting on the floor.

"Hi, I'm here!" Tomo said, waving her hand, her smile as loud as her voice. "What's up?"

Jichiro sprinted toward Tomo with a speed that belied his age and arched back. He grabbed her shoulders.

"Run!" He shouted. "They know you're here! They have dogs!"

"What?" Tomo shouted, lurching to her feet. She knocked over her cup of coffee and the man sitting next to her yelped in pain. "What dogs? What's going on?"

"The police!" Jichiro shouted. "Run!"

Tomo heard the barking of Akita Inus.

She ran out of the tent into the biting cold. The dogs were raising a fury, far in the distance. I can handle a couple of dogs, she thought. This'll be a cinch.

She ran toward the end of the camp, which jutted against the protective wall separating the park from the street outside. A small crack had formed in the plastic sheeting, and Tomo was able to peel a piece of it back and squeeze through. She landed out on the sidewalk next to Shinobazu-dori Avenue. One car passed. In thirty minutes the street would fill up with morning traffic.

She jogged down the sidewalk toward the Ueno train station. I can lose them there, she thought. She wondered if Jichiro would be able to dodge the cops when they showed up, but she decided he probably knew the park better than anyone. Wait, did he bike all the way from Kanda? Dang, he didn't need to do that.

Tomo's over-confident reverie was interrupted by a thick, chesty bellow erupting from the middle of the barking Akita Inus, and it cast a shadow on her heart. It was the distinctive bray of a French Bloodhound, and it meant he had made the scent.

"Crap!" Tomo shouted. She quickened her pace and tore down the avenue, reaching Chuo-Dori Avenue. She turned and headed toward the Ueno train station.

She jumped over the front revolving gate, ignoring the shouts of the guard. She plowed through the trickle of the early morning crowd, dodged the ticket master holding his hands up, and launched herself off of the platform and landed on the tracks. She rolled once, got to her feet, and ran across the lattice of tracks, like footprints of metal beasts.

The ticket master shouted at her. "You are in violation of station protocol! Get back here immediately!"

"Shove it, fatty!" Tomo shouted, shaking her fist at him. She tripped over a track and yelled in pain as her shin hit the metal.

She struggled to her feet. Did I break something? She felt her leg, and grimaced as she imagined a purple blotch spreading under her skin. She didn't break anything, but it hurt like it did.

She tried running again, but her leg had stiffened up. She limped toward a set of box cars as the barking of dogs got louder. It occurred to her that the Tokyo Police Force had never used such a large array of dogs to track a criminal, and this was probably a first. It gave her no joy to be a trailblazer.

The box cars started to move as the engine at the end pushed them onto another track, herding them toward a tunnel. Tomo jumped on the connectors between the cars and wrapped her hand around the ladder leading to the roof of the boxcar. I'm making a mistake, she thought. I don't know how long I'm going to be stuck here. But she hung on.

The train picked up speed, and she could hear the dogs barking through the grinding metal wheels. The train's breaks squealed, and the train slowed to a halt. They stopped the train, she thought. They have me. I'm going to get mauled by dogs.

She let herself off of the connector and held up her fists. Alright, she thought. Let 'em. She tried to pretend she was Torako, tough as nails and fearless, but her legs shook and she was afraid she'd start tearing up at any minute. She heard the paw steps of the first dog. It came into view, panting, and wagged its tail at Tomo. It was the broad, burly, black-and-tan Monsieur Chien. He barked.

"Monsieur Chien," Tomo hissed. "Get away!" She pushed his head away, and he licked her hand.

"Stupid dog got away from me," a gravelly voice said. The leash was picked up, and the kennel master Mr. Ichiro came into view. He stood in front of Tomo, but didn't look at her. He said something Tomo didn't catch, and Monsieur Chien pricked his ears. Ichiro leaned into the gap between the two cars, took a navy blue cloth out of his breast pocket, and put it to Chien's nose. Chien sniffed, flapping the cloth with his breath.

"Mr. Ichiro!" A voice shouted. "What have you?"

"False lead," Ichiro said. He finally spared a look at Tomo and smirked. "Just a stinking rat." He pulled Chien away, the dog staring at Tomo and not hiding his confusion. I found the target, his expression seemed to say, so where is my treat?

Tomo waited. The barking and shouting receded into the distance. The train started again, and Tomo limped out of the way.

...

Tomo was very conscientious about hygiene. She knew where the best and least crowded public restrooms were, and she knew what time of day when they'd be empty. She stole a bar of soap, toothpaste, and a toothbrush – she felt bad about that – and would quickly wash herself at a sink. No one yet came in on her while she was bathing.

She only had the clothes on her, and she did everything she could to keep those clean as well. The people she was living with thought it was weird.

"You're going to get smelly," Danube said, fully bearded. "Your clothes are going to get dirty. You can't fight it; you might as well accept it."

"That sounds like the talk of a traitor!" Tomo said. "I'm not accepting dirt! Dirt is the enemy! And I will not rest until it has been vanquished by my hands!"

New Year's had come and passed. All around the bus station was the settling of dark frost. Tomo still had the purple fleece hat Sakaki had given her, although the sleepy mole had fallen off. Tomo's New Year's dream involved her using a revolver to shoot rose petals into a table and screaming at the top of her lungs. She didn't remember it when she woke up.

The third member of their party, the Russian Kleon, the former bartender at the _Steam Donkey_, leaned over the corner and watched a departing car. "Okay," he said. He walked toward a newspaper dispenser and continued kicking it. The loud metal clanging echoed throughout the street, sounding like an industrial revolution. Finally, the bolts loosened and the dispenser fell onto the concrete.

"Excellent," he said. He picked up the dispenser and walked across the street. He hoisted the stand over his shoulder and ran at the snack machine at full speed. He launched the newspaper dispenser into the snack machine, and the glass shattered.

"My dear friends, let's feast," he said.

"I wish I could understand what he's saying," Tomo said. She and Danube got off of their bench and dug through the sandwiches spilling out of the dead machine.

"Learn Russian," Danube said.

Kleon held up a sandwich and laughed, hearty like beef stew. "Most promising," he said. "Chicken salad. I used to make a beautiful chicken salad back in Irkutsk. You two should try it."

Danube and Tomo nodded as if they understood what he said. The grabbed their sandwiches and ran into the night.

...

Danube Fujita's fall from grace – if running a strip joint backed by the Yakuza can be considered having grace to begin with – was short and violent. Angry at allowing police presence in their establishment, Danube was given his termination notice through a severe beating by two thugs, and having all of his belongings stolen from him. Now marked by the Yakuza, Danube had hit a dead end at finding new jobs.

"I know I'm rough looking," Danube said, chewing through a roast beef sandwich "but that can't really be helped. I can't afford shaving all the time, or bathing. I'm a good worker, but they take just one look at me and shake their head."

Tomo pointed at Kleon, who was on his fourth sandwich. "What about him?"

Danube shrugged. "He just walked out of the bar and started following me around."

Tomo had hooked up with the two shortly after leaving the Ueno train station. She moved around Tokyo during the night and slept in alleys during the day, usually in makeshift cardboard boxes. The nights were cold and harsh, and Tomo would loiter around bus and train stations, staying out of the cold.

A week later she left one bus station when a guard started following her around. Deciding her cover was blown, she walked out into the gray day and saw Danube and Kleon in the distance, just leaning against a bronze statue of some politician guy and not even doing anything. Tomo walked up to them like she belonged, and they decided to pool their resources.

It wasn't until Tomo entered into the room they were squatting in, a room in an office building slated for destruction, that she feared she may have been taken for a sucker. Fortunately, no one forced themselves on her. Sure, over the next two weeks, Danube made a clumsy pass at her, but dropped it when Tomo laughed in his face. He was never pushy. Kleon seemed more interested in acquiring vodka and causing destruction. He would be easier to live with if he didn't have the bad habit of waking up in the middle of the night, screaming, and stabbing his invisible tormenters with a combat knife.

The first night Tomo saw him do this, she was terrified to the point of running out of the room and not looking back. He eventually put his knife up and went back to sleep. Tomo, though, scooted across the floor, knocking over tin cans of anchovies, trying to put Danube in between her and Kleon.

"What the hell was that?" Tomo said.

"He's fighting mujahedeen in his sleep," Danube said, more irritated at Tomo for waking him up than Kleon screaming and stabbing air. "Flashbacks."

"Fighting what?" Tomo said.

"Afghan warriors. I pick up some of his words. He fought in the Soviet-Afghan war." Danube pulled the blanket over him. "I knew he was Spetsnaz," he muttered before going to sleep.

Sometimes, when he had found vodka, Kleon would launch into long rants that neither Tomo nor Danube understood.

"I should kill you both," he said in Russian. "The world hates fools and you two are fools. It will be a mercy killing, because I am saving you from Satan's future designs. You-" he pointed at Danube, "-you I would suffocate in your sleep. I would take your pillow and push it against your face until you stopped moving. Then I would hold it over you some more. Just to make sure you are dead."

He pointed at Tomo. "You, little sister, I would grab your neck and break it. Just a gentle tug under your chin and a twist, and you would die like a chicken. Twist your head off." He made a popping sound with his mouth.

"A-ok!" Tomo said, thrusting a thumbs up at him.

He took a long swig out of his bottle. "I want to violate you," he said. "I would split you in half, and ruin you for any men that came afterwards. You remind me too much of my little sister to do that, though. It would be wrong."

Tomo leaned over to Danube. "What's he talking about?"

Danube poked at the fire Kleon had built in the middle of their room. He had stolen a hacksaw and carved out a hole in the ceiling, leading to the second floor. He and Danube had fashioned bits of tin together to make a chimney that funneled smoke to the room above. "I'm starting to understand bits and pieces," Danube said. "He called you syestra, which means sister."

"Oh, really?" Tomo said, grinning hugely. "Thanks Kleon! You're like my brother, too!"

Kleon grunted, rolled over on his side, and finished his vodka. He looked into the darkness outside and saw the insides of caves, lighted by flashes of gunfire, as his soldiers died around him.

...

"He wants to go to Omsk," Danube said.

"Omsk?" Tomo said. "That sounds like what an elephant does in the morning."

"How'd you come up with that?" Danube said. "Omsk in in Russia. Siberia."

Kleon had gone out to raise havoc somewhere, so Danube and Tomo were staying in their room. It was early morning, and Danube was trying to boil water for coffee in a battered stainless steel kettle.

"He told me," Danube said. "He can actually speak Japanese, a little. He wants me to come with him."

"Really? Can you do that?"

"Sure," Danube said with a shrug. "I still have my passport from when I went to America and France. I'm not a criminal, so it won't be a big deal for me."

"Huh," Tomo said. She curled her legs in front of her chest and watched the fire. "I won't be able to go."

"I wasn't asking you to," Danube said with a smirk.

"Oh yeah? Well I didn't want to go in the first place!" Tomo said.

"Oh, don't take it like that," Danube said. "Those charges are false, I know. They'll get dropped, somehow. It's not like we can't visit or write letters."

"I'm not as optimistic as you," Tomo said. She cleared her throat. "So, what are you guys going to do?"

"His brother is a manager at a construction firm," Danube says. "He says he can get us both jobs."

Tomo felt her stomach sink. Even though Kleon was scary and Danube was scraggly, they had both become her friends over the last month. She was already missing them before they even left.

The door bust open and Kleon walked through, carrying two bags. "Goods," he said in Japanese. He reached into one bag and threw a blue box at Tomo. She picked it up. It was a box of tampons.

"Jerk!" Tomo shouted, blushing apple red at her not unwanted gift. She quickly hid the box under her blankets. Yeah, I'm not going to miss them that much, she thought.

The water began to boil, and Danube made coffee.

...

"Tomo," Danube said, gently grasping her shoulder. "Wake up. We're leaving."

Tomo shot up straight. She slept lightly now. She blinked, and turned on a flashlight. It shone a beam at Kleon and Danube, both fully dressed and carrying backpacks.

"What's going on?" she said.

"We're leaving," Danube said, quietly.

"Why, have we been made?" Tomo said, glancing out of the window.

"No, me and Kleon are going to Omsk," he said. "A boat leaves for Russia in an hour."

"Oh," Tomo said. "Well... be good."

"Yeah," Danube said. He reached out to hug her, and surprisingly to him, Tomo hugged back. "I hope we can see each other again," Danube said.

"Me too," Tomo said.

Danube broke the hug and Kleon went in for his. Tomo was only able to reach around his shoulders.

"You were the star in many of my sex dreams," he said. He backed away and saw the look of utter terror on Tomo's face. He glanced at Danube, who also had a look of shock.

"I said that in Japanese, didn't I?" Kleon said. He laughed, loud and wild like a stallion. "So what? It's true. Bye little sister."

Danube hastily herded Kleon out, giving a last "bye Tomo" before leaving. Outside, as they headed for the harbor, Danube could hear Tomo scream her disgust at the top of her lungs.

...

Two days later, Tomo hastily vacated her building, carrying select belongings in a backpack. The construction company had showed up to knock it down, and besides, it reminded her too much of Danube and Kleon.

Her prospects, so to say, were bad. She had to constantly leave neighborhoods because she would become too suspicious too soon. She lacked the street savvy of Danube and the brutal strength of Kleon to acquire food and other needed items. The cold was becoming too dangerous to live in. She decided to visit Sakaki.

She felt bad about it. She was using Sakaki's kindness to find a place to stay, at least until winter was over. She wanted to try living on her own, as a sort of contest between herself and the elements, and her situation, but she knew she wasn't strong enough to pull it off in the long run. I'm not turning myself in, she thought. They would kill me on sight. She didn't know the way to Sakaki's house, so she went to Sakaki's clinic.

She took the bus to Kanda, putting the collar of her jacket up and pulling her hat nearly over her eyes. She walked the rest of the way to Sakaki's clinic, and discovered that it was burned to the ground. Police tape was spread around the border of the burnt ruins.

"What the hell!" she shouted.

She went in to the building across the street, a convenience store, and asked what happened.

"You don't know?" the cashier said, a curly-haired middle aged woman. "It got burned to the ground around new year's day."

"How did that happen?"

The cashier shrugged. "News says the Doctor over there, Sakaki, flipped her lid and set it on fire herself. She's disappeared now."

Tomo slapped the counter, causing the cashier to jump. "Where's her house!"

"It's out on Zenigata Heji," she said, and Tomo ran out of the store.

"What a weirdo," the cashier muttered.

...

Using landmarks from her memory, Tomo found Sakaki's two story house, enwrapped in a brick fence, and with a "for sale" sign taped to the wall. She hopped the gate and landed in the yard. She could see through the house – empty.

Tomo never lost her lock-picking kit. She worked the door and went in. She explored the house, but nothing was left. The power and water, however was still on. Probably trying to sell it, she thought. She smiled at an idea, and ran to the bath.

She flicked on the light and turned the hot water all the way up. She dug into her backpack and pulled out her bar of soap.

After she cleaned herself, she soaked in the hot bath and wondered aloud, "What am I going to do now?"


	28. Chapter 28

Tomo hid on the roof of Sakaki's old house while the realtor showed a young married couple the rooms, commenting on the appropriateness of raising a family there. Tomo had her belongings with her, all stuffed in her bag, and she was sure she did a good job hiding her presence. She could hear the realtor below, answering the wife's question about the back yard.

"It would be an excellent place to grow a garden," the realtor said.

Tomo imagined dropping a water balloon on the people below, but of course it would blow her cover. She didn't have any water balloons anyway. The couple expressed interest in the house, and promised to call the realtor when they came to their decision. Tomo came down off the roof after they left, jumping first on the brick fence, and then jumping to the ground below.

The house served her well. The realtor company kept the water and electricity on for demonstration purposes, and Tomo took careful advantage of that. Eventually they'd get a bill and be suspicious. Tomo fought the urge to turn the heat up, and kept it at a careful seventeen Celsius. She had gotten used to being cold while running around with Danube and Kleon, so she could handle it.

What she couldn't handle was being bored. When she realized Sakaki's mail was still being delivered, she gleefully checked each day to see what she would get. She got a veterinarian magazine, which was boring, and a cat magazine for children, which was a little scary. Still she went through each magazine multiple times.

She was barely there four days when the SOLD sign when up. The next day, a moving truck pulled up to the sidewalk, and Tomo hastily exited. Once again, she had nowhere to go. She would've put an ad in the paper to catch Alekhine's attention, but she didn't even have the money for that, and that's assuming he'd keep true to his word.

She went through her items, and the only one she figured she could use was her broken watch, her first anniversary gift from Rico (there was also her wedding band, but she would die before she parted with that). Pawning it grew in her mind like mushrooms after a rain, and each time she kicked it away. I can endure, she thought. A phone number scrolled in her mind, one remembered from long ago, but she ignored it. She wouldn't want to see me again, Tomo thought. Even assuming that it's still active.

Boredom took her to Akihabara.

...

As per her old schedule, Tomo slept in alleys during the day, and stayed awake during the night. Not even Akihabara calmed down in the early morning, as there would still be throngs of people going from store to store. She would window shop constantly, and try out demos on the latest games. She learned where the public restrooms were, and took advantage of those during slow hours.

She browsed the book store, sometimes spending hours sitting and reading. In a snap she would jump out of her reading trance, shut the book, and leave the store. She lived with paranoia, and even the slightest tick of suspicion would send her fleeing.

She argued with herself, sometimes, if she could keep up the fugitive life she was living. One day, after having a dream where she and Torako were driving home for the night, just talking and enjoying each other's company, Tomo woke up shivering in the freezing cold evening, her stomach clawing at her over the absence of food. She had to mentally force herself to not cry. She inhaled through her nose and bit her lip. If she started, she was afraid she wouldn't be able to stop. This was the nadir of her fugitive experience.

She decided to pawn her broken watch.

...

It netted her eight thousand yen. She counted through it angrily, because she knew it was worth three times that, and she knew the pawnbroker knew it too. The first thing she did with her money was enter the Yomiuri Shimbun office and leave a simple, brief ad in the classifieds:

_Alekhine. Akihabara. CenterNews Stand. Help. TT._

"And he better read it, too," she said aloud. She trotted out before she could be recognized. She bought herself a beautifully hot dinner of yakisoba at a stand. She went out into the cold night and even, briefly, considered buying a pillow and a blanket.

...

The pillow and blanket worked wonderfully, giving warm and soft sleep for a change, and Tomo woke up feeling surprisingly optimistic. She hoped her faith in Osaka's compatriot wouldn't be misplaced. It worked last time, she thought.

The early darkness of the winter evening was setting in, and Tomo quickly strolled to the CenterNews Stand where she'd browse the magazines. The old man that ran it ignored her and let her look through them unmolested.

She eyed the layout, found the latest issue of the Yomiuri Shimbun, and shouted, "Ugh!" It had a picture of Oda Otomo.

"What's that idiot up to?" she said, ignoring the displeased stares from passersby. She grabbed the paper and unfolded it. Oda, it seemed, was arguing for the repealing of article nine of the Japanese constitution. She eyed the other papers and saw pretty much the same news, including innuendo that China was planning aggressive maneuvers against Japan, and that the United States would not intercede.

"He's making this up," she muttered. Whoops, I better not talk out loud, it's freaking people out. She ignored the rest of the article and hunted for the classifieds. She peeled out that section from the rest of the paper.

"You better put that back the way you found it," the salesman said.

"Don't worry, I will," Tomo said. She scanned the index for the personals, and thumbed to that page. A yellow slip of paper fell out. She picked it up, glanced at it, and was about to stick it back in the paper when she read it again. It was the size of a magazine flyer, and set in the middle of the paper was the handwritten phrase, "Hold On." She flipped it over on the back. Nothing else was written on it but the hiragana on the front.

"Weird," she said. She stuck the slip back into the paper and found her ad, exactly as she had made it. Good, I didn't get ripped off. Now I just wait.

She rebuilt the newspaper under the watchful eye of the salesman, and placed it neatly on the rack. She stared at it longer, and grabbed another copy of the Yomiuri Shimbun behind it.

"It's the same thing," the salesman said. He shook his head. "Don't be ruing my papers, okay?"

"I'm not, I just need to check something. Sheesh."

She went to the classifieds – her ad was still there – but no yellow slip of paper with 'Hold On' written in big black letters on the front. She conscientiously, and perhaps a little contemptuously, rebuilt it before going to the next.

"Come on!" The salesman said.

The yellow slip of paper was in none of the newspapers. She went back to her original – ignoring the exaggerated sighs of the old salesman – and pulled out the yellow slip.

"Do you know anything about this?" she said, holding it to his face. He backed up a bit and took it out of her hand. He flipped it over.

"Nope, not my handwriting." He gave the slip back to Tomo.

"Well, what's it doing there?" she said. "It's not in the other ones."

"Who knows? Maybe one of the sorters left it there and forgot. Instructions to hold that specific copy, or something." He shrugged. "Is that why you were tearing my papers apart-"

The salesman straightened up. "Hello," he said, to someone behind Tomo.

Tomo felt a hand grip her arm a little too firmly. "Hey!" she shouted, trying to jerk her arm out of the vise grip. She turned around and saw a familiar looking uniformed policeman glaring down at her.

"Tomo Takino," he said. "You're coming with me."

Tomo kicked him in the crotch. He doubled over, and Tomo ran across the street.

She skidded around a corner and raced for the network of alleys and subway tunnels she had become so intimately familiar with over the past two weeks. I can lose him in there, she thought, her teeth gritted in furious concentration.

An arm shot out of a doorway she passed, and she ran into it. Her speed and the arm's anvil stiffness knocked her off her feet. She flew through the air and landed on her back with a thump that almost broke concrete.

She ignored the pain the best she could, but it was compounded by the officer who performed the clothesline maneuver grabbing her arms and flipping her over. His knee dug into the small of her back.

"Get off!" she shouted. "I had surgery! You're going to open my wound!"

"I'll be careful," the officer said. He forced her hands behind her back and cuffed her. He jerked her to her feet and pushed her into his patrol car, parked in front of a violently loud pachinko parlor.

Tomo sat in the back and fumed. She worked her fingers into her sleeves and felt for her handcuff key. Shortly afterwards, the officer she hit appeared around the corner. The sidewalk crowd parted as he made his way through, teeth grinding and fists clenched. Meanwhile, his partner radioed in their catch. He seemed oddly serious for a routine call.

"Weird," the officer muttered, clipping his mic on the holder. "Sorry about the clothesline," he said, turning to face Tomo. "I should've tripped you."

Tomo recognized his buck teeth. "Hey, you were in Ueno Park!" She spoke with comradely feeling, trying to prevent him from discovering that she was picking her lock.

"Yeah, Takeshi," he said, smiling. "We got promoted."

Tomo watched as the angry officer approached the car. It was Takeshi's partner, Ichizo, in the only mode Tomo ever saw him in: pissed off. He opened the door next to Tomo and grabbed her arm, pulling her out.

"Hey!" Tomo shouted. Takeshi rolled down the window.

"Hey, Ichizo, what are you doing?"

Ichizo flipped Tomo around, pried open her hand, and grabbed the key she had enfolded in her fingers. He checked her sleeve and pulled out a long, thin wire. He turned her around and stuck the items in front of her face.

"Assaulting an officer of a law-"

"That wasn't me! That was some other guy that hit you! I think it was Oda Otomo!"

"-and attempting to escape."

"Those aren't mine! You planted those! I'm innocent!"

"Add that to your murder charge and assault of the Prime Minister, and I think you'll be in jail for a long time."

"I was framed!" Tomo shouted, as Ichizo shoved her back in the car. When he was done, he got in the passenger side of the car.

"Take her in," he said.

"We've been ordered to wait," Takeshi said.

"Why?" Ichizo said.

"Why!" Tomo shouted.

"The PSIA are coming to pick her up."

Tomo screamed at the top of her lungs.

Ichizo turned around while his partner covered his own ears. "I will choke you out!" Ichizo said, jabbing a finger at her. "You can't get away like you did last time!"

"Let me out of here!" Tomo shouted. She tried to open the door by backing into it and using her cuffed hands to work the latch, but it, of course, was locked. She was so jittery with fear she didn't realize she had let out a whimper.

"You've been caught," Ichizo said. "Face it."

"Caught for what? I didn't do anything! False charges! Police brutality! Attica! Attica!"

"Shut up," Ichizo snarled. "Take your situation seriously for a change."

"If you're innocent, you have nothing to fear," Takeshi said. "So don't worry about it, okay?"

"Look," Tomo said in a loud whisper, "it's all a setup. There's no justice for me. Have you ever heard of the PSIA picking up Japanese citizens charged with common crimes before? Why would they be doing that now?"

Takeshi furrowed his brow. "It's your notoriety, I suppose. You did attack the Prime Minister, so maybe it's a national security issue."

"Don't talk to her," Ichizo said. "Here they come."

Two black suited agents appeared, dour and impersonal. They radiated waves of hate, which kept a dead zone of protection around them. Weeds growing in cracks in the pavement caught fire as they passed by.

"It doesn't matter," Ichizo said to the question in his mind. "We got our orders." The two officers left the car to talk to the men. Tomo desperately searched the back seat to the best of her limited ability, but found nothing to aide in her escape. The agents, two frostbitten slabs of cold and clinical duty, approached the car. Ichizo opened the door.

"No!" Tomo said, as she scooted to the other side. That door opened and Takeshi grabbed her arms, pulling her out of the patrol car.

"You're acting shameful," he whispered to her. "It'll be okay." The two black suited agents approached Tomo.

"Help!" Tomo shouted. "They're going to kill me! Help!" Akihabara, now lighting Technicolor neon in the sinking evening sun, gave the officers wide berth. It was an excitable and self-absorbed neighborhood that relentlessly pursued its own pleasure, the pleasure of material consumption. It paid no attention to Tomo's plea. The pedestrians out looking for a good bargain appraised the scene with little interest. It was just another criminal begging for her freedom.

Tomo went limp and Takeshi grunted as he used both hands to lift her up. "You're only making this worse for yourself," he said.

"They're going to kill me!" she shouted. Without any warning, one of the black suited agents nonchalantly walked up to Tomo and punched her in the stomach.

Tears broke from the corner of Tomo's eyes as she doubled over, gasping for air. The agent grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet, like an angry teacher at a recess full of unruly kids.

"Hey, that's not necessary," Takeshi said, holding his arm up as if he was going to stop what was happening.

"Don't," Ichizo said. He frowned and looked away.

The other black suited agent grabbed Tomo's spare arm and smirked at the two officers. "Thank you for your cooperation," he said. They dragged Tomo down the sidewalk.

Tomo sputtered and gasped as she was carried by the two agents. They treated her like a child's toy. Going limp and dragging her feet didn't help. She struggled when they carried her to an alley behind the pachinko parlor. Nothing was there but their black cargo van, no windows in the cargo area.

"No," Tomo rasped.

One of the agents lifted her arms up over her head while the other used his handcuff key to unlock her handcuffs. He removed them without care or concern for Tomo's comfort, leaving a painful red welt on Tomo's wrist.

The agent holding her threw her to the ground. He walked behind her, blocking the exit. "Suspect is attempting to escape!" he shouted.

Tomo got to her knees and held her hands up. "No I'm not! I'm right here!" she managed to hack out.

"Suspect has taken an aggressive stance!" his partner shouted. Tomo turned around and saw that the black suited agent had pulled out his gun. "Firing in self-defense!" he said, and he took his aim.

Tomo crumbled, her mouth open in an unspoken plea that would not leave her lips. She was too terrified to shout, to scream for help. She didn't just think she was going to die; she felt it. Her mind and body screamed in anguish and she would let out one final sob, the only denial her little damaged soul could muster.

She felt the wind first, as it passed by her, and then saw the black suited body of the agent fly over her head as if he was catapulted. He smashed into his partner with such force that the gun was flung out of his hand. They landed in a sprawl of Gucci-suited meanness behind the black van.

Tomo turned around, and saw her pass by. She walked with determination, despite her silly yellow pants and the sweater with a weird Aztec design. Tomo had to grab her chest in case her heart burst out with the joy and relief she was feeling. It was Osaka.

The agents were well trained, and quickly scrambled to their feet. Osaka rushed at them. Tomo wasn't able to discern what was happening, or how Osaka dispatched the would-be killers. The past months of vagabond living, a life rotten with fear and paranoia, was cast from her body with an endorphin rush. It was only a fading nightmare now.

It was quick. They weren't dead, but they probably wished they were, being a tangle of limbs, blood, and pain left at Osaka's feet. Tomo stood up, and Osaka turned around. She smiled, broad and loving.

"Hiya Tomo!" Osaka said, with a circular hand wave. "I call that my Deus ex Osaka!" Her face took a quizzical turn as she cocked her head and looked skyward, as if searching for an answer. "Or was that my Osaka ex Machina?"

Tomo ran up, grabbed Osaka's cheeks, and planted a passionate, yet sisterly and chaste kiss on her lips.

"Are we in college again?" Osaka said, when Tomo pulled away. "You don't look drunk."

"Just get me out of here!" Tomo shouted.

...

Tearful reunions had to wait, as Osaka was as desperate to get Tomo to safety as Tomo was to leave. They ran out of the alley, jogged two blocks, and turned into a parking lot where Osaka's car skulked in waiting.

"I never thought I'd actually be happy to see this awful thing," Tomo said, as she jumped in the passenger side of the black Challenger. Osaka hopped in the driver's side, started the car and gassed it into the street with a deft and quick maneuver that came with years of experience.

It was fully night, and the storefront neon lights reflected and stretched over the glossy black surface of the car, as if there were UFO's hovering overhead.

"Thank you," Tomo said. She swallowed to keep from tearing up. "You saved my life."

"You're welcome, Tomo," Osaka said. "Why wouldn't I? You're the best friend I got."

Tomo eyed Osaka carefully. "Did... did Chiyo tell you everything? I mean, what I did?" Tomo's voice cracked.

"Yeah, but I already knew," Osaka said. "I looked into what happened to my friends when I regained my memory back in Mexico, and pieced together what happened. That's why I moved in next to ya. I wondered if you might need help dealing with it, if you ever decided to tell me."

Tomo watched Osaka as she shifted into second gear. She felt the same confusion and disbelief she felt last time, watching Osaka drive a stick shift with such detached skill. Osaka's face lit up each time she passed under a street light. It was kind and focused.

"You knew, and you still wanted to see me?"

"Yeah!" Osaka said. "Chiyo makes me feel bad, though, what she is now. I'd hate for Sakaki to find out."

Her emotions rubbed raw from her near death experience, her weeks of isolation and hard living, and now being saved by Osaka, Tomo, despite herself, teared up. She grabbed the flaps of her jacket and shook her head, trying to fight back the tears.

"You're so great, Osaka," Tomo said. "I don't deserve a friend like you. I betrayed Yomi. I hurt... I crippled-"

"Hush up, Tomo," Osaka said. She spared her hand a movement away from the stick shift, and grabbed Tomo's hand. "We gotta concentrate on getting away now. We'll save that stuff for later, like after we had some fish and beer."

Tomo laughed, loosening a few tears. The only ones she shed. "That's crazy even for you."

"Sorry I had to cut your rescue so short. You weren't were I thought you was."

"Which was?"

"That newspaper stand. I left a note for ya."

"Hold on," Tomo said. "That was you?"

"Sorta," Osaka said. She shifted into third and maneuvered the Challenger to the highway exit. "Alekhine stuck it in a paper delivered there that afternoon, cuz we weren't able to watch it all day. Folks are after us, ya know."

Tomo heard sirens and turned around. Flashing lights were trailing a block behind.

"Uh, Osaka? We got cops on us."

"That won't be a problem, Tomo," Osaka said. She slid into the highway and punched it. G forces pushed Tomo into her seat, and Osaka eventually brought the Challenger's (aftermarket gearbox) up to sixth gear. It roared down the highway, and reached a cruising speed of a hundred and forty miles per hour before Osaka let off the acceleration.

"Geez, that freaks me out," Tomo said.

"Yeah, milk is so expensive," Osaka said, passing a truck hauling a tanker with a polka-dotted cow on the side.

"No, I mean you driving a stick shift. It's so weird!"

"Is this what this thing is?" Osaka said, and she pushed the stick into a lower gear.

The Challenger rebelled and choked, and Tomo and Osaka were thrust forward as the car lost a tremendous amount of speed.

"What are you doing?" Tomo shouted.

"What's going on?" Osaka shouted. She smashed the gas, and the car grinded out an awful sputter. "What is this? I don't know what this is!"

Tomo's jaw dropped in disbelief.

"I forgot how to drive!" Osaka shouted. She started mashing pedals randomly, causing great confusion to the poor car.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" Tomo shouted.

"Why did you have to say anything, Tomo!" Osaka shouted, with real heat. Tomo was taken aback by her sudden anger. "I never learned this, they just put it in my brain! You made me forget how to drive! Why'd you have to go and do that!"

Osaka jerked the steering wheel, and Tomo screamed as the car fled down the off-ramp, hitting the embankment and flying into the street below. Cars honked and slammed their breaks as the big black behemoth rained down terror on the innocent motorists.

"Pull over!" Tomo said. The swirl of red and blue lights in the rear view mirror caught her eye, and Tomo turned around. They had lost too much speed, and the police car was gaining.

"Don't pull over! Speed up!"

"Hmm," Osaka said, staring at the floorboard instead of the street. "Which of these is the gas?" Her feet stomped around, and the car blasted forward.

"That's the girl, Osaka!" Tomo said, with a fist pump. "You can drive again!"

"What's this thing?" Osaka said. To Tomo's horror, Osaka was staring at the steering wheel.

"Don't-"

Osaka jerked the steering wheel. The tires smoked and squealed, and the rear clipped the side of a parked car. Osaka somehow corrected the course, and the car sped ahead... toward a construction zone.

"Okay Osaka, we'll need to slow down. Hit the break and turn up here!"

The car sped on.

"The break!" Tomo shouted, hysteria lining her voice. "Hit the break!"

"Which is the break?" Osaka said. The car sped toward the construction zone, and Tomo realized it would be too late.

In a smooth and quick motion, like a fearsome combo from a top tier street fighter, Tomo performed an astonishing act of agility and speed that she knew she'd never be able to duplicate for as long as she lived. She unbuckled her seatbelt, leaned over and unbuckled Osaka's seatbelt, grabbed Osaka, and pulled her toward the door. Tomo opened the door and pushed herself out, holding on to Osaka with all her might.

The car hit the edge of the newly dug foundation and went airborne just as Tomo and Osaka tumbled out. They flew through the air, parallel with the ground, and Tomo tightly grasped Osaka and forced her own body to go limp before the inevitable crash. The Challenger rocketed out of sight.

...

Four hours earlier, the party for the groundbreaking event had ended, a party held to celebrate a new project of Mainichi Construction, Inc. The pit manager now had the unwholesome task of taking out the trash. He ordered his men to collect the trash bags, and had them piled next to the manager's office on the grounds of the construction zone.

"Um, boss? Shouldn't we be calling city sanitation?" one of his underlings asked.

"Hell no," he said. "Why should we? They'll come pick it up."

The underling eyed the mountain of trash bags. "Boss? Garbage doesn't run for another three days. This stuff is going to stink."

"It's all in bags," the manager said. "What's the big deal?"

"It'd look real bad if dogs got into this and spread it all over the place."

"Look, would you stop worrying? Nothing's going to happen to this stuff."

The underling made a wide idiot grin. "How much you wanna bet?"

The manager's eyes narrowed, and he licked his lips. "Okay, if this stuff is untouched and doesn't stink by the time the sanitation department picks it up, you have to shave your head bald."

"Alright," the underling said, rubbing his chin. "If all this garbage stinks to high heaven, or gets strewn around everywhere, you... hmm. You'll have to smoke a rotten banana peel."

"That's... really weird," the manager said, wondering when the underling's psyche evaluation was due. "But you're on!" They shook hands and grinned at each other.

Later, the manager went into his hut and called the sanitation department. They promised to send a garbage truck first thing in the morning to pick up the mountain of trash bags. The manager thanked them, hung up the phone, and laughed to himself.

"Easiest bet yet."

...

Tomo and Osaka plowed into the mountain of trash bags. The sheer force of their impact, like an asteroid pummeling the earth, toppled the Everest of garbage. Black garbage bags exploded in a rain of chicken bones, half eaten ramen, coconut shells, sauces, partially drained cups of juice and beer, and an entire variety of partially consumed food, leaving a blast radius that spread over the construction zone and spilled out into the street. Remnants of the explosion would be found years after the project was completed. Tomo swore she heard an actual explosion.

When they had come to a halt, lying on the few unexploded garbage bags, they had left a trail of filth and decay that spread behind them for twelve meters.

Tomo, lying on her back, groaned and sat up. Her arm was sore from slamming into the plastic bag – a bruise was forming – but she wasn't hurt.

Osaka dug through the trash she had landed in, an empty bowl upturned on her head. Her hair and face were dark and pungent with soy sauce. "I've been marinated," Osaka said. "I'm sorry Tomo, I promise I'm not stupid."

Tomo let escape a sigh. "I know you're not," she said, removing the bowl from Osaka's head. "I just wish you came with an instruction manual." She looked behind her.

"Whoa!" Tomo said. "Look at that! What are the odds?"

"Yeah," Osaka said, her eyes following the trail of food and busted black bags. "It's like a slip n' slide, but for hobos."

"Hey, did you hear an explosion?" Tomo said.

Comprehension lit Osaka's face like a brush fire. "Jerome!" she said, and she ran toward where she guessed the car landed, a big clue being the smashed-in protective wall. Tomo followed behind. Tomo gasped, and Osaka fell to her knees.

The Challenger, standing upright on its grill, was leaning against the silver blades of two bulldozers, parked next to each other. Smoke and fire poured from the car into the air. Flaming debris from the car was strewn over the construction site, including the bent and broken hood. Jerome was dead.

"Wow," Tomo said, amazed at the carnage, and sickened with powerful fear that it could've been them. The fire flickered and illuminated her face.

"That's how Francis died," Osaka said.

"Who's Francis?"

"His brother." Osaka stood up, clapped her hands together, lowered her head, and closed her eyes. Tomo did the same, until she realized what she was doing.

"Gah!" she said, breaking up her prayer. "I'm not praying over a car! Osaka, get me out of here!" Tomo grabbed Osaka's wrist and pulled her away from the fire.

"Where are we going?" Osaka said.

Tomo stopped and let go of her wrist. "Yeah, where are we going? You're supposed to lead!"

"This way!" Osaka said. She ran in the opposite direction out of the construction zone and onto the sidewalk. Tomo followed. The sounds of sirens were close behind.

...

"Hold on," Osaka said, squatting on the pavement against a red brick building. She held a hand to her chest. "I'm no good at running marathons."

"Take your time," Tomo said, looking up and down the street. "It's not like I'm on the run from the law or anything."

Osaka had lead Tomo through the mazes of streets, alleys, and even an empty trash-lined canal in... well, Tomo wasn't sure where they were. Sometimes she wondered if Osaka actually knew where they were, but she was afraid to say anything.

"You sure changed, Tomo," Osaka said. "You aren't breathing heavy or anything."

"That sounds bad coming from you," Tomo said. "No, I've been doing nothing but walking the past several months, so I guess I built up a little endurance."

"Alright," Osaka said standing up. "I'm ready. We're close to where we're going."

"Which is?"

"A Ministry of Defense safe house."

Tomo grabbed Osaka's arm to stop her from running. "Osaka! I'm wanted by the law, remember? I can't go to a government safe house!"

Osaka looked both ways on the empty street, as if she was imparting terrible secrets. "There's a big fight between the cabinet and the Ministry of Defense," she said, holding up a finger for emphasis. "I don't understand politics, but they aren't liking Oda Otomo and his policies. They think militarizing the SDF is a mistake, and would cause mass desertion."

"Maybe so, but why would they protect a criminal? Which I totally am not, by the way."

"Because I said so," Osaka said, like a seer. "So they pretend you aren't anywhere near me."

"Really?" Tomo said. "You have that sort of power? Wow, that's awesome, Osaka! You should make them give you a hundred million yen!"

"They did," Osaka said. "That's how I got my taqueria. I hate I had to give it up, but I needed to take the heat off you and Torako."

Tomo's brain was shuffling questions to ask Osaka, mostly on the basis of if she'd like the answer or not. She decided to skip the interrogation, and ordered Osaka to charge ahead.

...

After a block of running, Osaka took a right turn and entered upon a neighborhood street. Old houses were cramped next to each other, and Tomo looked nervous.

"Is it okay to be here?" she asked. "I don't want to be seen."

"I wouldn't worry about it," Osaka said. "It's nighttime anyway." Tomo wasn't sure how that mattered, but she didn't press the subject. Osaka made it to their target; a boarded up convenience store, the 7/11 label scaring the exterior.

"Oh, I get it," Tomo said. "It's a front!"

Osaka produced a key and unlocked the glass door, covered with cardboard. Instead of entering into darkness, as Tomo expected, they two walked into a lighted, clean hallway.

"A kitchen is in the back," Osaka said. "They got a bath and a living room, although everything is pressed together, like Legos. Some of it spills into the basement."

"Wow," Tomo said. "These are good digs. I'd never thought it'd be like this from the outside."

"Yep!" Osaka said. Tomo walked down the hallway toward the kitchen. Sitting at a small pub table, its stained surface brown with age, was Sakaki, eating a bowl of ramen.

"Sakaki!" Tomo said. Sakaki looked up and smiled, her relief and happiness apparent. Tomo slightly blushed.

"Tomo," she said. She stood up and bowed, and Tomo bowed back. If it was possible to transmit a depth of feeling through bowing, those two certainly did it.

"I tried to find you again," Tomo said, "but your clinic burned down! What was that about?"

Sakaki shook her head, frowning at the floor. "I was accused of burning it down. They published my medical history... made people think I lost my mind."

"How did that happen? Who did it?"

"We don't know yet," Osaka said, leaning against the doorframe. "I'm thinking Ch- uh, Rain of Terra."

Tomo peered at Osaka, processing what Osaka was going to say instead of what she did say. She turned back to Sakaki, who seemed oblivious to Osaka's near faux pas. "It was my fault, wasn't it?" Tomo said. "They found out I was staying with you."

"I don't know," Sakaki said. She refused to meet Tomo's eyes. "I was going to be arrested, but Osaka pulled me out at the last moment."

"Yeah, she's good at that," Tomo said, eyeing Osaka with a smirk.

"I don't wait that long on purpose," Osaka said, waving her hands like an airplane traffic controller, trying to drive Tomo away.

Sakaki looked up and wrinkled her nose. "What's that smell?"

"Oh yeah," Tomo said. She faced Osaka. "About that bath?"

...

They were nearly the same size, so Osaka loaned Tomo some clothes. Tomo strongly urged her to loan her some pants instead of a dress, and Osaka complied.

"No offense to you two, but I got to get some sleep. Which of these is my room?"

"Um, that one there." Osaka said, pointing. "The one next to you is Sakaki. This one is mine, and that one is Torako's."

"Okay, thanks," Tomo said, grabbing the door handle. "Good night!" She gasped and slowly turned her head to Osaka, who was smiling obliviously.

"Did... did you say Torako?"

"Yeah," Osaka said. "She's in... oh! Ohhh! I forgot to tell you she's here!"

Like moving through a dream, Tomo floated across the hallway and grasped Torako's doorknob. It was locked.

"She might be sleeping," Osaka said. "She's still recuperating from her injuries."

Tomo, of course, picked the lock. The door opened. It was dark inside, with a window covered in cardboard. Tomo felt around and flicked the light switch.

Torako was lying in bed. She was on her back, eyes closed, her thin lips partially opened as she breathed her sleep. Her hair had been trimmed, although her bangs were still long and shaggy.

Tomo slowly walked toward the bed. She dropped to her knees and listened to Torako breathe, and watched the gentle low tide of her chest. Tomo spontaneously, without any warning, not even realizing it was coming, burst into tears. She laid her head on Torako's breast and cried.

"I thought you were dead," Tomo said. She moved her arms around Torako's shoulders. "I thought you were gone. I couldn't find you."

Torako opened her eyes. She moved her hand toward the back of Tomo's neck. "Tomo," she said.

She sat up, Tomo hanging on her shoulders. Tomo hugged her and put her head on the crook of Torako's neck. Torako put her arms around her. She gently kissed Tomo's targus, her soft inlay of ear.

Tomo looked up at Torako and sniffed. She broke out into a terrorizing grin. "I knew you had the hots for me!" she shouted.

"That was original and unexpected," Torako said with a lop-sided smile, pushing Tomo's head away.

"Anyway, I'm sleeping here tonight," Tomo said, flipping the covers over to move in. "Scoot over."

"Tomo, this bed isn't-" Tomo inserted her body on the edge of the bed and used it to push Torako against the wall.

"See? Instant room," Tomo said, as she lay on her side, her body pressed against Torako, who was flat on her back. She put her arms around Torako's waist and let escape a contented sigh.

Torako sighed too, but there was no contentment there.

...

Hiro Tezuka stared at the wreckage.

He was still accorded some respect, despite being knocked down to lieutenant of a meter maid squad. Such a demotion doesn't automatically mean you're no longer the best driver in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force. He knew that, and the quartermaster knew that as well. That's why he let him into his scrap yard.

Hiro hadn't said a word when he first saw the wreckage. The quartermaster stood next to him, stubble spread across his chin.

Hiro pointed at the burned wreckage. "What the hell is that?"

The quartermaster smiled, and rubbed his chin. "The car found at the construction zone. They had to put the fire out and peel it off two bulldozers. The one the cops were chasing. Had Tomo Takino and some other girl in it."

"I know that car," Hiro said. "I chased after it. Now, what did the police report say it was?"

"1970 Dodge Challenger," the quartermaster said.

"Then what's the problem?" Hiro said.

"Look," the quartermaster said. "I'm not going to say it's the right car. I'm not even going to say it's the wrong car. All I'm saying, is this is the car they peeled off them bulldozers, and it's the car they say they were chasing. I'm not going to doubt 'em."

Hiro looked at the car again, and wondered, not for the last time, why he was looking at the burned out husk of a 1967 Chevrolet Camaro.

...

**A/N: **That's the last _Vanishing Point (1971)_ reference. I promise.

Also, you just saw the biggest change I made in this story, which is Torako surviving her assault. The outline I wrote originally had Torako getting killed, but as I got closer to that event, it just seemed wrong. Excessive and unnecessary, maybe even gratuitous. So she survives. How she survived, of course, will be in the next chapter.


	29. Chapter 29

Torako was awake before she realized she was awake. She ran through a checklist she practiced with Sakaki, a mental machete to cut through the thick overgrowth strangling her brain. She remembered who she was, and where she was. She became aware that a weight was pressed against her, and it wasn't metaphorical.

"Tomo," Torako muttered.

She rolled on her back, careful not to disturb her sleeping partner, and let her eyes adjust to the darkness in the room. The light of the hallway invaded underneath the door, and faint ambient light came in through the border of the boarded-up window. She was able to see the outline of Tomo's face.

"I know you're awake," Torako said. "Your eyes are open."

"I sleep with my eyes open," Tomo said.

Torako scooted toward her edge of the bed, pressed against the wall, and draped one arm over her eyes. The second arm she tried to maneuver so as to lay it flat without bothering Tomo.

"It's great to see you again, Tomo," Torako said.

"Did you miss me?" Tomo said.

"Yeah."

"Good," Tomo said. "You better have, because I'm awesome."

"Heh," Torako said.

They two lay for a while in the darkness. Then, Torako said, "I'm sorry I attacked you. That's the worst thing I've ever done."

"If that's the worst thing you've ever done, then you're leading a pretty good life so far," Tomo said. "Although I think your smoking habit is worse."

"No," Torako said. "I abused my authority, I ignored your grief, and I attacked you. I was a total monster."

"Torako," Tomo said, "I forgive you. I'm sorry I treated you like dirt, blaming you for Rico's death. I know it wasn't your fault."

"Thank you," Torako said.

"We're like sisters, we get in fights. Don't worry about it anymore, okay?"

"Okay."

The silence mixed in with the darkness for a while, enveloping Torako in a fog. Torako broke through it and said, "I heard you attacked Oda Otomo."

"Yeah, you should've been there," Tomo said. "It was a real sword fight. We were flying in the air and shooting fireballs at each other. I made him whimper like a dog."

"I bet," Torako said. "He still became prime minister, though."

"Yeah," Tomo said. "Jerk. Him, not you. He sliced me right through the belly."

Torako moved her arm off of her eyes and turned her head. "Really?"

"Yeah, feel it," Tomo said. She lifted her shirt.

"Where is it?" Torako said. "Too dark in here."

Tomo took Torako's hand and pressed it against her scar. Torako grunted her surprise and concern.

"Wow," she said, as she traced her finger across Tomo's flat belly, feeling the braille that spoke of an ugly wound. "That's horrible."

"Terrible's what it is," Tomo said, lowering her shirt when Torako finished her survey. "It hurt really bad. I was bleeding everywhere. I jabbed Oda right in the throat with a dragon punch and made my escape. Sakaki performed surgery on me and fixed me up, though."

"Oh yeah," Torako said. "She told me that."

"Eh? And you forgot?"

"It was while I was recuperating from getting shot," Torako said. "I've lost a lot of my vitality."

"You'll get it back," Tomo said.

Torako didn't respond, so Tomo continued. "Where did you get shot?"

"Abdomen. And the chest, right on the breast bone."

"Wow!" Tomo said. "You got lucky!" Without prompting, Tomo stuck her hand underneath Torako's shirt and hunted for her bullet wounds. "There's one," she said, feeling the one on Torako's abdomen, near the curve of her waist. "And... oh God! It's horrible! What a terrible wound!"

"Idiot," Torako said, removing Tomo's fingers from her right nipple. Tomo giggled. "It's right here." She moved Tomo's hand to a spot in the middle of her chest. "It shattered part of my sternum and bounced out. A piece of bone got stuck in an artery. If it had gone through, I'd be dead. I was bleeding everywhere. Real lucky to survive."

"Wow," Tomo said. She shuddered, and quickly moved her hand away. "Watanabe must've been a crappy shot."

"He was two meters away and shot three times," Torako said. "He missed once. He was using a .22, a Chinese knock-off of a Walther. You only use a .22 for killing if you have God-level aim." Torako turned her head and studied Tomo, combining her memory of Tomo's face with the ambient light to form an image. "How did you know it was him?" Tomo told the story of her rushing into the morgue, and finding Ryo Watanabe's body on a slab tagged with Torako's name.

"Wait," Torako said. "How did you know I was shot?"

Tomo shifted on her side to face Torako. "I heard your voice while I was at work. You said my name. I knew something terrible had happened, so I rushed to your koban as fast as I could."

While Tomo couldn't see Torako too well, she knew she was frowning. "That's kind of out there."

"Maybe we have a telepathic bond," Tomo said.

"No such thing," Torako said. "It's just a coincidence."

"Come on Torako, don't be such a spoilsport. Look up stuff about twins, they have weird stuff like that happen to them all the time. Like, one will get a cut, and the other will feel it."

"We aren't twins," Torako said.

"I know," Tomo said. She lay back down, and sighed. "Don't make fun of me, but I wish we really were sisters."

Torako thought before responding. "Yeah," she said. "Me too. Maybe we are, somewhere."

"Pfft, no such thing," Tomo said, mocking Torako's peppery tenor.

"Yeah, yeah," Torako said.

"I couldn't find your body," Tomo said. "So I always had this hope that you were still alive out there, even though the news was saying you were murdered."

"By you."

"Yeah! Isn't that crazy? And listen, I couldn't find a mark on Watanabe, although I didn't have the time to look. How was he killed?"

"Shot in the back of the head," Torako said. "He had his gun on me."

"Who shot him?"

"Kazumi."

Tomo sat up. "Kazumi... Kondo?"

"Yeah," Torako said.

Tomo peered at her through the darkness. "You better tell me this story."

...

"He insists on speaking to you, Ms. Kondo," the switchboard operator said. "He refuses to speak to Superintendent Hayakawa."

That's normal, Kazumi thought. "Do you think you could take a message? I'm trying to finish reading this report."

"Certainly ma'am," the operator said, and the line was cut.

Kazumi placed the phone in its cradle and continued reading the report left on her desk, a report detailing fraud over forged credit cards. It was a boring and technical report, which wasn't surprising because it was written by a boring and technical investigator.

She plopped the twenty three page document – she was on page four – on her desk, leaned back in her creaky leather chair, and sighed. She had been promoted to second in command, but felt no joy or sense of accomplishment. Sure, she enjoyed the pay raise, but the promotion itself didn't mean much to her now. The heart and soul of this building were gone... and the irritant, too.

She was debating on visiting the snack machine when her phone rang again. She checked the display, seeing that it was the house operator. She sighed, not for the last time, and answered.

"Still won't give up?"

"No ma'am," the operator said, her nasally voice making Kazumi cringe. Sweet lady, but ugh. "He said it was important."

"Yes ma'am, he said that before. Send him through," Kazumi said.

"Hello? Ms. Kondo?" said a man's voice, weak like a watered-down roast.

"This is she."

"Ms. Kondo, I am the warden here at the Tokyo Disciplinary Holding Center."

"Ah, the Crocus," Kazumi said.

"We don't prefer that name," the warden said, a little smoke and fire entering his watery voice.

"Sorry sir, how may I help you?" Kazumi's tone was clipped with impatience, as this man was standing between her and chocolate bar heaven.

"I have an inmate here, by the name of Isao Saito. He's demanding to speak to you. He even threatened to go on a hunger strike if he doesn't get his wish."

"I see," Kazumi said, not seeing at all. "I'm not familiar with him. Why does he want to talk to me?"

"He claims to have been visited in the past by-" paper crinkling came over the line, "-Tomo Takino and Torako bon Rall... von Warr-"

The chair croaked as Kazumi sat up, leaning over her desk. "Yes sir, I know them," Kazumi said. "Did he say why he wanted to speak to me?"

"I believe it involves his former partner, Ryo Watanabe. They were detectives from the Ueno district who were busted on corruption charges. I believe the two women were temporary replacements for them? He knows you as an acquaintance of the two."

Kazumi's curiosity got the better of her. "Yes sir. Please put him on the line."

"I'm sorry, I can't," the warden said. "It's against prison policy, as I believe you know."

"So I'm going to have to go down there and speak to him in person," Kazumi said.

"Yes ma'am, that is so."

"I'm leaving now," Kazumi said. They said their goodbyes and she hung up. She stood up and sighed, yet again.

...

Saito sat across from her at the table. He wore the white jumpsuit of the minimum security prison, his beefy frame filling out the sleeves. He gawked and smiled at Kazumi, who decided he had dumb coded into his genes.

"So, Mr. Saito," she said, professional and brisk. "How may I help you?"

"Ms. Kondo," he said. "You gotta promise me not to tell your chief anything I say, okay? It'll come back to me and I'll be in trouble."

Kazumi didn't answer. She didn't like Hayakawa either, but she wouldn't be caught being insubordinate.

"It's my former partner, Watanabe. You know him?"

"I know of him, yes," Kazumi said. She put her hands in her lap to avoid tapping the table.

"Well, he got let out today on good behavior. It's a bunch of garbage. Him being here was just a ruse, right? He was always getting out, doing odd jobs and things. It had to look official, but he was living like a king over here, at least up until Ms. Torako split his lip. Heh heh, boy did that burn him. Anyway, he's out today, and he said many, many times he was going to get even."

"So you think he's going after Torako?"

"I know he is!"

"He's going after a police officer who's a crack shot with a gun, and a talented and trained fighter. I don't think we have anything to worry about, Mr. Saito." What a waste of time, she thought. She scooted her chair out to leave.

"You don't understand," Saito said, leaning over the table. "He was let out of prison, this prison, to do odd jobs for some cop organization, some secret thing I wasn't a part of. They still treat him like he's a detective! They'll help him get away with it, too. They'll cover it up so that no one knows he was involved, and they'll bump off anyone that finds out! I've seen it before!"

Kazumi stood up. "Thank you Mr. Saito, I'll check with Ms. Torako." She addressed the guard. "I'm through," she said.

The guard came to escort Saito out. "I just don't want Ms. Torako to get hurt, you understand? That's all."

"I think you're envious that he got let out early, and are trying to concoct this ridiculous story to get back at him. Good day Mr. Saito." She left the room.

...

The cool evening was darkening into a cold night, and Kazumi was in her older model Jaguar, imaging herself eating ozoni soup and watching a movie at home. She was focusing on that to avoid dwelling on Saito's warnings. She hated to admit it, but what Saito said got under her skin. She gave up, pulled out her cell phone, and dialed Torako's number.

Ever since Kazumi was promoted and Torako was demoted, both had conflicting schedules on when they could meet and talk. Kazumi would occasionally check in on Torako, calling her or dropping by her koban. It was obvious that Torako was depressed, but being Torako, she refused to discuss it or even hint at the shadow over her heart. Kazumi tried several times to get Torako to discuss her feelings, but she always clammed up. Kazumi couldn't understand why someone with so many admirers would keep herself so lonely.

Torako's terse answering machine message played, followed by a beep. Kazumi closed her phone. Probably busy, she thought.

_He said he's going to get even_, came Saito's voice.

"I'm such a sucker," she muttered as she drove her car toward Torako's koban.

...

She parked the Jaguar across the street and forced herself to walk calmly and naturally toward the koban, which split two one-way streets. A light was on inside, and Kazumi gently opened the glass door. She was careful and graceful with her actions, as always, and the door made no sound.

The door was only halfway open and she already smelled blood.

She dashed into the koban and whipped out her service revolver, a snub-nosed .32 S&W. She heard a man's voice come from the back. Combining quiet with quickness, Kazumi hurried into the back room.

"Good day, Torako," Watanabe said, and he aimed his gun at Torako's head.

With no pretense and no mental preparation, Kazumi simply aimed and fired, carving out a chunk of skull and brain from the back of Watanabe's head. His arm jerked and he fired his gun into the ceiling, emptying his clip. Kazumi grabbed the back of his jacket and threw him down to the floor. His corpse continued to pull the trigger, the clicking of the empty gun like a metronome slowly losing time.

"Torako!" She holstered her gun and bent down over the pale and trembling Torako. She was covered in blood, although Kazumi noted with some gratitude that she couldn't see bleeding. Her wounds had clotted.

"Hang in there!" she said. She whipped out her police radio.

_They'll cover it up so that no one knows he was involved, and they'll bump off anyone that finds out!_

Kazumi clicked off her police radio. For the first time in her life, she met paranoia.

She pulled out her personal cell phone and called an acquaintance who worked as an ambulance driver. She answered, and Kazumi barked the address of the koban and ordered her there immediately. "Officer down, looks like a gunshot wound to the chest! No sirens, no lights! Don't you dare radio dispatch, and that's an order!"

"Y-yes ma'am," she said.

Kazumi hung up her phone and stared at Torako as she took heaving breaths and held her hands to her chest. "I'm sorry about this, Torako," Kazumi said. She lurched toward a corner of the room and vomited.

...

"Hah, what a wimp," Tomo said.

"That's a normal reaction," Torako said. "It was the first time she had ever killed someone."

"Well, I wouldn't throw up, if I ever killed someone."

"Tomo, she saved my life," Torako said. "Lay off."

Torako's narrative had been disjointed. She repeated herself and backed up a lot. Her words slurred, and Tomo decided she was tired.

"What happened next?" Tomo said.

"The paramedics came and treated me on the spot. Stabilized my condition, although I was critical. They got a body bag for Watanabe. They actually put his body in Kazumi's jag, and she drove it to the morgue. She made sure that the techs labeled it as mine."

"I saw the ambulance pull away," Tomo said. "I can't believe it. You were right there and I didn't even know it. What about those two detectives?"

"More string pulling," Torako said. "Kazumi networked far and wide since starting out as an investigator. She's a natural politician. Anyway, she gave directions to the paramedics on where to take me. It was to someone called the night nurse."

"The night nurse?" Tomo said. She giggled. "What, they couldn't get the day doctor? Was the sunset surgeon busy?"

"Ha. Ha." Torako said in a flat tone. "I don't know her real name. Some American woman, from New York. An underground doctor. Like I said, Kazumi has contacts you wouldn't believe. The nurse performed surgery on me. I was critical for about a week, lapsing in and out of consciousness. Bed-ridden for two weeks. I remember Osaka finally showing up. It's been a big fog on and off. I'm going to have to get used to it."

"Why? It'll go away, right?"

"I was without enough blood for too long," Torako said. "It's not going away."

Tomo rolled over to face Torako. "Torako," Tomo said, her voice vibrating with concern. "What are you saying?"

"I'm brain damaged," Torako said.

Tomo stared at Torako's face. The day was making its belated appearance, sneaking in through the edges of the boarded up window, and Tomo was able to make out the line of Torako's features. Tomo gently scooted toward Torako and rested her head on Torako's shoulder. Tomo put her arms around Torako's waist, clasping her hands when they met.

"How bad?" she said.

"Can't think straight," Torako said. "I can't concentrate and focus like I used to. I have trouble remembering things. My reaction time is slowed. Speech slurs sometimes. I'm not going to be able to drive a car like I used to. It may be better if I don't drive at all."

Tomo sniffed. "It's not fair," she said, her voice cracking.

Torako moved her arm underneath Tomo, wrapped it over her back, and squeezed her shoulder. "I can deal with it," Torako said. "Just another battle to fight." Torako rubbed Tomo's back while Tomo fought off tears.

"The rage is gone," Torako said. "I traded off one thing for another. I used to wake up angry and go to bed angrier every day. I think I was born angry. That's why I had to be cool, understand? It was an act. I had to have self-control, all the time. You saw what happened when I attacked you. I looked like a beast, didn't I?"

"You're not a beast," Tomo said.

"Not anymore," Torako said. "My rage is gone, a big red blotch of fury coloring everything. It's just a white fog. I already know self-control, Tomo. I'll just have to reapply it."

"I never knew that," Tomo said.

"I never told anyone," Torako said. "I'm not cool. I just pretend to be, so I could control this ridiculous anger. Pretended. Actually, I tried to tell a little girl I knew, years ago. Just out of the blue, told her I was pretending to be cool. I felt really self-conscious and, uh, blew cigarette smoke in her face."

"That's weird," Tomo said.

"Yeah," Torako said. "I knew it was weird. Some dumb defense mechanism straight from my spleen. Who knows? Look, brain damage or not, I'm glad I'm alive."

"Me too," Tomo said. Her words were true, despite the pain in her heart.

...

Tomo lay for a while listening to Torako's breathing. When Torako was asleep, Tomo carefully extradited herself from her bed and entered the hallway of their safe house. She headed straight for the kitchen, which was being visited by exciting smells.

"Hiya Tomo," Osaka said, as she stood over a stove. She had poured in some shitake mushrooms into a nearly cooked egg. "Want an omelet?"

"Do I?" Tomo said, as she leaned over Osaka to watch her breakfast be prepared. "Ooh, is that niboshi?"

"Yep! Soaked in sesame oil and garlic. I lost my bag that time we were attacked by Section One, and it bothered me ever since. Here." Osaka pulled the saucier up and expertly rolled the omelet onto a plate. "Dig in!"

Tomo grabbed a bowl of rice and some chopsticks, and enjoyed her breakfast. Osaka poured orange juice for both of them and sat on a stool. The table was an old fold-out table sitting across from the door to the hallway. Unlike the rest of the safe house, the kitchen's tinted windows weren't boarded up, as there was a cinderblock wall guarding against voyeurs. The morning sun poured through finely.

"You and Torako get to talk much?" Osaka said.

"Yeah," Tomo said, and she gave Osaka a summary in-between bites of her breakfast. "We still have a lot of catching up to do. Need to let her sleep some more. Where's Sakaki?"

"Cleaning the bathroom, and refilling the bath," Osaka said. "We kinda left a mess when we bathed last night."

"You mean you left a mess," Tomo said, some rice falling out of her mouth. The last time Tomo and Osaka bathed together was in college, and Tomo had forgotten Osaka's penchant to sink even in bath water. She displaced a lot of the tub's water onto the floor.

Tomo finished her meal, and noticed that Torako was standing at the threshold, looking around the kitchen.

"Morning Torako!" Tomo said. "Time for breakfast?"

"Sure," Torako said, as she padded to the table. Osaka made her a cup of coffee, and then returned to the stove. Tomo got herself some orange juice and babbled about nothing, mostly the weather and how she needed some clothes. Torako had a simple meal of a piece of toast with butter.

"The way I like it," she said to a disbelieving Tomo.

When Osaka sat down, Tomo leaned forward. "You guys willing to talk shop?"

"I liked woodworking," Osaka said.

"Sure," Torako said, declining to correct Osaka. "What do you have in mind?"

Tomo spilled the entire contents of her meeting with Chiyo, and what she learned from Oda Otomo. It was in secret tones fit for two CIA agents meeting in Cairo, and Tomo was so severe in her manner that she didn't even embellish facts or inject her own opinions. She finished by chugging down the rest of her orange juice.

Torako frowned deeply. "So she says Watanabe killed Asagi. Otomo says Chiyo was in the room when it happened."

"That's hard for me to believe," Osaka said. She had a pinched and pained look on her face, unlike the soft and downy features she usually sported. "Chiyo can't ever be like that."

"I promise I'm not making any of this up," Tomo said. "That's exactly what they told me. I don't really believe Oda Otomo, he talks to much and says nothing. But if Chiyo says Watanabe is the murderer... well... I can't say she's wrong."

"It makes sense," Torako said. She looked away from the table at a spot on the stove. Her eyes lost focus, and she drifted into a cloudy morass of no thought.

"Torako?" Tomo said. Osaka touched Torako's shoulder. Torako returned to the world.

"Sorry," she said, as she took a sip of her coffee.

"One thing I gotta wonder," Osaka said. "What do we tell Sakaki? And do we even want to tell her?"

...

Sakaki finished straightening up the bathroom. Her hair was wrapped up in an orange China pattern bandana, strands of hair peeking out from her exertion. She wiped her forehead with the sleeve of her shirt. "All done," she said.

She bent down to collect a spray bottle of cleaner and put it in a bucket. She would like to have joined Osaka and Tomo last night, as what she could hear sounded like a lot of fun. Mostly Osaka yelping that she was drowning, and Tomo chastising her for sinking in a bathtub. Of course, three people could never fit in such a small tub. Tomo would probably harass me about my breast size anyway, she thought. She tolerated it from her, but she never liked it.

She picked up her bucket and left the bathroom, entering the hallway. She pulled off her bandana and saw, in the kitchen, Tomo, Torako, and Osaka talking to each other in whispered tones. She smiled broadly.

"How nice it'll be, to share a morning with friends," she said to herself.

"Oh you think so," a voice from behind her said, "but will you be able to share?"

Sakaki gasped, her eyes widening. It was the old voice, the one she would never forget. She turned around and saw the floating golden cat, with eyes as large as saucers, flashing a kaleidoscope of colors.

"Chiyo's dad," Sakaki said.

"What?" Chiyo Chichi said. He trembled with rage. "You dare speak my name without permission? How shameful! What if I said your name without permission? You'd turn into a pillar of salt!"

"I- I'm very sorry!" Sakaki said.

"Yes. We are sorry. Aren't we?" he said. "And what's this about a morning with friends?"

"Well," Sakaki said, transfixed. "I thought, I thought I could eat."

"Did I say something about eating?" Chiyo Chichi said. "I said friends. Am I not your friend?"

"Yes, yes you are," Sakaki said, holding up her hands in supplication.

"It doesn't matter if I'm your friend or not. But you have to learn, don't you? Are you ready to learn?"

"Y-yes," Sakaki said.

"Good."

A revolver floated down from the ceiling, gleaming chrome, fully loaded, its wooden handle polished and shiny. Sakaki, mouth agape, took hold of the handle.

"Put the gun to your head," Chiyo Chichi said. "Pull the trigger. Kill yourself. It's the only way. Put the gun to your head. Pull the trigger. Kill yourself. It's the only way." Chiyo Chichi continually repeated his hypnotic mantra, his eyes a swirling vortex. Sakaki put the gun to her head, and with a single tear escaping from her eye, pulled the trigger.

...

Tomo held up a hand and stared down the hall. "Why does Sakaki have a feather duster against her head?"

Osaka leaned her stool over to peer down the hall, and lost balance. She overcorrected herself and fell to the floor. Torako saw Sakaki, and left the kitchen. Tomo followed, and Osaka too, when she got off of the floor.

Sakaki's eyes were closed. Torako gently held Sakaki's wrist and pulled the feather duster from her hand. Sakaki opened her eyes and saw her three friends, her relief apparent and obvious.

"You must've run out of meds," Torako said. "You should've told us. We could've gotten you more."

Sakaki shook her head. "No," she said. "I thought I could stop taking them. I'm sorry to have bothered you." Sakaki backed away and bowed to the group. She glided into her room. "I'll be out in a moment for breakfast," she said, when she shut the door behind her.

Tomo bent down to collect her bucket and cleaning supplies. "What was she doing?" Tomo said. "She was always kinda out there, but wow."

"She saw him," Osaka said, firmly.

"Who?"

"Maxwell's demon," Osaka said. "He pretends to be Chiyo's dad."

"...what?" Tomo stared at her and back at Torako, who appeared to be unperturbed by Osaka's revelation.

"He shuffles all the entropy in the universe," Osaka said. "He got in a big fight with Laplace's demon and defeated him, but it made him crazy. Now he doesn't do his job and the universe is filling up with entropy. Only me and Sakaki can see him."

"Osaka, were you born with your umbilical cord around your neck? Because from where I'm standing, you need Sakaki's stuff more than she does."

Sakaki entered the hallway, her face contrite. She didn't look at her friends.

"Oh, I need to make your breakfast!" Osaka said. "Let's go, tell me what you want."

Sakaki stopped and stood in front of the three.

"I know you three already ate, but I would be honored if... if you could eat with me. Or sit..." Sakaki trailed off and looked away.

"Yeah, I'd love to," Tomo said, grinning huge. "I need more coffee. Let's go, Torako."

She looked at Torako, whose eyes had glazed over and were staring at nothing. Tomo frowned, feeling the pain stabbing her heart. She gently grasped Torako's shoulder.

"Torako," she said.

Torako's eyes focused. She shook her head. "Sorry," she said.

"You don't have to apologize for that," Tomo said. "Let's go sit with Sakaki."

Torako followed her into the kitchen, where Osaka was frying her third omelet of the day.


	30. Chapter 30

Life at the safe house was uneventful. Despite having all the amenities required for stimulation, – internet, movies, video games, books – being forcibly cooped up in a house lead to cabin fever and heated exchanges. In other words, Tomo terrorized everyone.

"I'm bored!" Tomo yelled from her bedroom. Torako, sitting on the couch in front of the television in the living room, winced as feet stomped closer to her location. Sakaki was in her own room, reading a book. Osaka was asleep on the living room floor, her head underneath the coffee table.

"Torako!" Tomo said, as she stood at the entrance to the living room. Torako paid close attention to the television as Doyle chased after the speeding L-train. "I'm bored!"

"Watch this with me," Torako said, patting an empty spot on the couch.

Tomo stomped into the living room and sniffed at the screen. "It looks old! Let's play a game or something!"

"After this," Torako said. She tensed as she waited for Tomo to turn off the Blu-ray player. Instead, Tomo was distracted by Osaka's sleeping form, soft and sweet like a peach's dream.

"Ooh, Osaka," Tomo said, as she squatted next to her.

"Don't wake her up," Torako said. "Let her sleep."

"Hey Osaka, wake up," Tomo said, as she drilled her finger into Osaka's cheek. "Let's play _Twilight Struggle_!"

"I get to be Russo," Osaka said, as she shot straight up. Her head hit the coffee table with enough force that the table flipped over. Osaka grabbed her head and moaned, "Ow! Ow! Ow!"

"I told you to let her sleep!" Torako said, standing up to right the coffee table.

"I'm bored!"

"You've established that," Torako said. "Good work. Now get the hell out and let me watch my movie."

"Want to see a neat trick?" Tomo said. Before Torako could say no, Tomo jabbed the eject button on the Blu-ray player and grabbed the disk. She ran back to her room giggling madly, slamming the door behind her.

"Like I'm chasing after her," Torako muttered. She looked at Osaka, still rubbing her head. "You going to be okay? You didn't cut yourself, did you?"

"N-No," Osaka said. She moved her hands so Torako could see the top of her head.

"No cuts," Torako said. She glanced at the Blu-ray player, tray open, and got an idea.

"You want me to set up _Twilight Struggle_? You can be Russia."

"Yeah!" Osaka said, forgetting her hurt head.

...

Realizing Torako wasn't taking the bait, Tomo unlocked the door and walked toward the living room, the disk hoisted on her index finger.

"Hey Torako," Tomo said. "I still have your- hey!" Torako and Osaka were sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, the opening moves of their board game well underway. "I was going to play that!"

"You ran off," Torako said. "So I thought you didn't want to play."

"Torako, you know I wanted to play! You did that on purpose!"

Torako tore her attention away from the game and fixed Tomo with a derisive smirk. "It's bad to wake up Osaka with a promise to play, and then not deliver on it. I'm just do-"

Tomo took the disk and snapped it in two. "There!" she said, as she flung its split corpse on the floor. "Now what?"

Torako's eyes narrowed. "How old are you?" Torako said. "You're acting like a child."

"But I thought she was twenty-eight," Osaka said.

...

Sakaki heard the beginning of the commotion in her room, despite the shut door and the engrossing book. She sighed and closed her book, readying herself to break up the fight.

They had been there a week. Osaka was busy collecting intel for their eventual return to the world outside – at least, they hoped they'd get to return – and they were getting impatient and worried. They dealt with their feelings in different ways. Sakaki read books, Torako watched her movies, Osaka slept or played games, and Tomo terrorized everyone. Osaka was hard to unsettle, so Tomo aimed at Sakaki and Torako.

It was irritating to be the target of Tomo's mischievous plots, as Sakaki knew. However, Sakaki also felt a curious joy when Tomo targeted her. Tomo including Sakaki in her troublemaking rounds meant Tomo was comfortable with their friendship again, and that made Sakaki happy - although she could do without the leering references to her breasts.

She approached the living room, Tomo doing everything in her power to rile Torako, Torako responding as calmly as she could. Osaka was engrossed in the board game, and didn't seem to be paying attention to the argument whirling above her.

"We all four could play a game," Sakaki said, catching the gist of their argument. She knew that wasn't the point, but she was going to be the peacekeeper no matter what.

"Why? Torako would just cheat, like she always does," Tomo said.

"I don't," Torako said. Sakaki noticed her words slurred together, and moved to stop the argument before Tomo continued.

Before Sakaki could do that, the creaky sound of the front door swinging open entered the room. The three quieted and looked toward the living room entrance, listening to the soft padding of high-heeled shoes walking across carpet.

"I can hear you guys outside," Kazumi said, as she entered the room. "It's a miracle you having been found out yet."

"Ha!" Tomo said, with a huge grin. A new target! "If we get found out then we know it's because you sold us out. You got stool pigeon written all over you."

"I wouldn't do that!" Kazumi said, always taking Tomo's bait.

...

Kazumi was included in on the secret location on Torako's insistence, and Tomo's reluctant agreement.

"She can find whatever legal avenues we need to get out of here," Torako explained to the three on the fourth day of their self-imposed captivity.

"What, Osaka isn't good enough?" Tomo said, holding her palms in a presenting manner toward Osaka, like she was the secret behind door number three.

"Osaka is great," Torako said, as Osaka beamed. "I'm just saying we need to use all of our available resources. Osaka will mine her government contacts, while Kazumi figures out what legal recourse we have."

"Can we trust this Kazumi?" Sakaki said.

"No," Tomo said.

"Yes," Torako said, frowning at Tomo. "She's not the type of person to put her career over her principles, or her friends."

"Yeah, her friends," Tomo said. "I'm not her friend. She doesn't even know Sakaki."

"Listen," Torako said, "I want out of here. I might not be able to be a cop again, but I sure don't want to be here forever. Do you?"

"No," Tomo said, drawing out the word with a petulant thrust of her chin. Sakaki answered the question by shaking her head.

"Then let's let Kazumi in on our secret."

...

Osaka volunteered to lead Kazumi to their safehouse. She took the direct route by visiting her after work.

"Hey, you know Torako?" Osaka said, waiting at Kazumi's Jaguar. "She's alive. Want to see her?" The direct route worked, as Kazumi most certainly did want to see Torako. She wasn't as pleased to see Tomo, however.

"Wow, comporting with known criminals," Tomo said. "Boy, you sure have abandoned your fine policeman's principles. For shame!"

And so Tomo and Kazumi continued their antagonistic relationship.

...

Kazumi was useful in providing scuttlebutt concerning secret goings-on in the police world.

"Mr. Mainichi died of a heart attack," Kazumi said. She and Torako sat on a picnic bench outside the safehouse, in a walled-off area in the back. Thick cinderblock walls blocked their view outside, and leafless maple trees in the unclaimed lot next door marked the sky with their craggy appearance.

"Really," Torako said, taking a sip of her tea.

"His secretary found him slumped in his chair, not moving. She called an ambulance, but the paramedics couldn't revive him. He was dead before they even got there. Don't you get the news here?"

"I've been out of pocket," Torako said. "Now, what's the real story?"

Kazumi let out a dainty cough before continuing. "Well, there's not any suspicion of foul play, if that's what you mean. However, it is interesting that the coroner's report was signed, filed, and then sealed while the coroner was physically in Guam."

Torako shook her head. "You're a diplomat to the end, Kazumi. So the heart attack wasn't natural, if I was going to be conspiratorial about it."

"I'll pass on that," Kazumi said. "Also, Zhang Ping was shot to death while resisting arrest."

Torako put down her tea cup. "I never expected that," she said.

"A raid was ordered on his biggest gambling den. Allegedly, he assaulted one of the police officers, and the officer shot him in self-defense. According to the report."

"I can't see that happening," Torako said. "Zhang Ping always seemed so cautious."

Kazumi, again, cleared her throat in a dainty manner. "He wasn't cautious enough to dodge thirty four bullets."

"Wow," Torako said. She furrowed her brow. "Was a ring found on Zhang Ping or Mr. Mainichi? Platinum-"

"I know the ring, remember?"

"Sorry, my memory is a little fuzzy."

"That's okay. No, nothing like that was found on either one of them, at least according to the report. Nothing was found on Saito either."

Kazumi paused while Torako connected her thoughts. "Watanabe's partner. He was killed?"

"Over three weeks ago," Kazumi said. "Literally the night he was released from prison on parole. I don't think there's anything you can find conspiratorial about this, though. He started a fight at Tokyo harbor and suffered multiple skull fractures from a blunt instrument, meaning a steel-toed boot. The doctor said the first fracture knocked him out."

"Brutal," Torako said. "Any suspects?"

"Witnesses claim a muscular Russian beat him to death. He disappeared shortly afterwards, in company with a Japanese male. The detectives checked the harbor docket, and found a freighter headed to Omsk, Russia. They tried checking with the Russian embassy, but-"

"Don't tell me," Torako said. "Cold case."

"That's right." Kazumi looked at the tips of the trees as they pointed toward the reddening sky. "Saito was a corrupt cop that overstayed his welcome, and made his whole district look bad. I'm surprised the detectives assigned the case even bothered to check with the harbormaster. But that's that for Saito."

"Meanwhile, he's missed by no one but his mother." Torako took a sip of her tea.

Kazumi hopped off of the bench, and straightened out her dress. "Um, I've been asking around about your situation. Discretely, of course. You should have no trouble returning to the real world. Really, you could just walk out right now."

"I'm not sure I'd live long," Torako said. "What about Tomo?"

"You mean the person who attacked the Prime Minister? What do you think? Insanity by way of grief would be the only thing she could be defended with, and that'd get laughed right out of court. I'm sorry... well, I'm not really sorry, just sorry for you, I mean... but Tomo's going to jail the instant she's caught. Same with Dr. Sakaki – that arson charge still stands. I'm sorry, but that might be the most I can do."

"It's okay," Torako said. She felt the fog rolling in, and decided to head for bed. She hopped off of the table, stumbling before catching her balance. Kazumi moved to support her, and after an awkward moment of shoulder touching, stood away.

"Thanks for your help, Kazumi," Torako said, looking into her violet eyes. "If you can think of anything-"

"I'll do my best," Kazumi promised, quickly turning toward the door so Torako wouldn't see her blush.

...

Osaka marched down the hall and entered the kitchen. Tomo, her head propped up by a hand while trying to read a fashion magazine, barely acknowledged Osaka's presence.

"What?" Tomo said, turning page after page of garishly colored clothing.

"Gentlemen," Osaka said in English, "behold!" She held up two bags of Magnetron burgers.

"Yeah, gimme!" Tomo said, jumping out of her chair. She grabbed a bag and poured the burgers out onto the table. Sakaki, hearing the commotion from her bedroom, came into the kitchen. She saw the pile of burgers and went to the refrigerator to prepare drinks.

"Where's Torako?" Tomo said.

"I believe she's sleeping," Sakaki said, glancing at the analog clock hanging on the wall. Tomo announced her intention of getting her and walked to Torako's door.

"Torako?" Tomo said, rapping the door with her knuckles. Torako didn't respond, so Tomo opened the door and peeked in. Torako was sitting up in bed, her hands in her lap. She was leaning over and studying the floor.

"Torako?" Tomo said. She walked over to Torako and sat down next to her. "Osaka smartened up and brought us Magnetron burgers. Do you want to come eat?"

"Yeah," Torako said, her word coming out dry and distant. She continued staring at the green carpet. Tomo took Torako's arm, put it over her shoulder, and helped her stand up. She led her out of her room.

"I can take it from here," Torako said when they exited into the hall. "Thanks." She took her arm off of Tomo's shoulder and staggered down the hall, one arm pressed against the plaster wall as she made her way to the kitchen. "Takes a while to wake up."

They both made it to the kitchen, where they sorted the burgers and ate. Tomo, mid-bite, looked up at Osaka standing near the entrance, her arms raised over her head.

"Osaka, you can get out of that pose now," Tomo said. "You aren't carrying any bags."

"I'm thinkin'," Osaka said, "of how to tell ya'll something."

"Well think sitting down, you're weirding me out."

Osaka fell out of her pose and sat down with the group. Sakaki ate her burger in dainty bites, Torako picked at hers and ate slowly, and Tomo was busy shoveling the second one into her mouth. Osaka grabbed a burger and slowly unwrapped the paper.

"Ya know," Osaka said, "we can't stay here forever."

"Yeah, but where would we go?" Tomo said.

"I might have to get ya'll out of the country," Osaka said. She took a bite of her burger.

"A vacation oversees, huh?" Tomo said. "That'd be cool! I want to go to Crete."

"It won't be a vacation," Osaka said. She looked at Sakaki. "You two can't come back."

"What?" Tomo said. "Why the hell not?"

"You're talking with your mouth full," Torako said.

"I guess I am, huh?" Tomo said, leaning over the table and opening her mouth wide. "Boy, I sure am glad you corrected my grievous error, Torako!"

"Gross," Torako said.

"You two are wanted criminals," Osaka said. "With no justice for either of ya'. Torako is supposed to be dead, and if they find out she's alive, they'll just try to kill her again."

"Wait," Tomo said, "I thought that was just Watanabe? Something he wanted to do?"

"My sources say different," Osaka said. "He was released with the full knowledge that he'd try to kill Torako."

"You and your sources," Tomo muttered.

"So, we'd have to concentrate-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Tomo said. "Back to my first question. Why can't we come back? We have the connections, we have the skills. We could blow this whole… mediocre pie stand wide open. Torako, don't you dare say a word." Tomo pointed at Torako. "What I said is a cool and clever way of describing the current situation, so shut up."

"I could use some pie right now."

"Osaka, don't get distracted," Tomo said.

"One of those French silk pies-"

"Osaka! Pay attention. You got sources, right? That's our proof right there. We'll just march right into the Kantei and arrest Oda Otomo on the spot. He's an accessory to Ms. Ayase's murder."

"Do you have the legal authority?" Sakaki said. She looked askance, worried that she was interfering in something that wasn't her business.

"So? We had legal authority before, but that didn't do me or Torako any good."

"Perhaps," Sakaki said, aware of Tomo and Torako's past difficulties with their case. "But what do you do when it's all over? Our criminal charges will still be there. I'm accused of arson and insurance fraud, and you'll still be accused of assaulting the Prime Minister. Regardless if Oda falls or not, those two charges will stand over us."

"Well, we'll just have to force him to confess," Tomo said.

"This is an incredibly hair-brained idea," Torako said.

Tomo smacked her palm on the table. "I don't want to leave Japan, okay? I don't want to hide as a criminal. I want to clear my name. And what good is leaving Japan going to do anyway? They'll just come after us no matter where we go."

"Wait," Torako said, and she left the table and walked to her room. She came back with a folded piece of paper in her hand. She unfolded it and laid it flat on the table.

Tomo picked it up. "Oh, it's our old writ ex nihilo. You kept it, huh?"

"It's still valid," Torako said.

Tomo's jaw dropped. "Are you serious?"

"It was on the docket of the high court to be repealed," Torako said. "However, after my supposed death, it was pushed back in favor of other cases. It's still valid. That's our legal authority right there."

Tomo squealed. "This is so awesome! I can't be charged with assault of a public official now!"

"But Tomo wasn't a police woman when she attacked Oda Otomo," Sakaki said.

"That doesn't matter," Torako said. "Her name is on this document, and the original, sitting in the vault of the Tokyo high court. Technically, she has all the legal and police powers required to investigate this, and only this, specific case – the murder of Asagi Ayase."

"And I was interviewing Oda Otomo over that very fact! And as soon as everyone sees that Torako is alive, I'll be scot free!"

"Sakaki won't," Osaka said.

Tomo was so elated over the news that she was going to escape criminal charges, that Sakaki's plight didn't even enter her mind.

"I'm sorry Sakaki," Tomo said. "I was being selfish there."

"It's okay," Sakaki said. "It's good that you can feel relief."

"But, couldn't they just kill you guys?" Osaka said. "I mean, you had that slip of paper before, but that didn't stop them from trying to get rid of your guys. Why would it be any different now?"

"Oh, thanks a lot Osaka!" Tomo said.

The four ate on in morose silence. Torako finished her burger and spaced out, staring at nothing in front of her. Tomo was going to intervene when Torako's eyes cleared, and she stared directly at Tomo. Tomo gulped.

"Let's do it," Torako said.

Tomo's eyes darted in anticipation. "Do what?"

"March into the Kantei," Torako said, "and arrest Oda Otomo. Accessory to murder."

Tomo squealed in excitement. "Yeah!" she shouted. "It'll be like the old days! Let's take hostages and burn everything to the ground!"

"But," Sakaki started.

"Not literally," Tomo said. "We can try to use our writ thingie, and Osaka is still deputized!" Tomo pointed at Osaka. "You're still deputized, right?"

"Sure am."

"Man, we have a whole army right here in our kitchen! A trained army! We can't lose."

"We'd lose terribly," Torako said.

Tomo laughed, aware of how inappropriate it was for the situation. "Yeah! We'd die in a hail of gun fire."

"Or get arrested before we even get inside the building," Torako said. "Like Osaka said, our writ ex nihilo is just a piece of paper, and rule of law doesn't mean much to people... to people who..." Torako rubbed her forehead.

"It's okay, I know what you mean," Tomo said. "I mean, I still want to get Oda, but I don't want it to be a suicide mission."

"Count me in," Sakaki said.

"What?" Tomo said, looking at Sakaki, not hiding the huge grin on her face. "You too Sakaki?"

"I'm in the SDF. I have training in urban warfare and fireteam tactics," Sakaki said. Her severe expression faltered, and she looked at the table. "I never wanted to use it... but... I can't leave my friends to risk their lives. I'd be honored if you'd allow me to assist you." Sakaki stood up and bowed.

"Thanks Sakaki," Tomo said. She stood and bowed as well. "I mean, this is a big pipe dream, right?" She looked at Torako. "We can't get this to work, right?" Tomo had a sound of desperation in her voice, as if she wanted to be talked into doing something she knew was crazy.

"Us four? A disaster," Torako said. "None of us are law enforcement to begin with, and I'm sure the Ministry of Defense would completely disavow Osaka's connection to them."

"You got that right," Osaka said. "They would be hating on me in no time at all."

"Aw," Tomo said, as she slumped into her seat like a pouty child. "So it's impossible after all."

"No," Torako said. "We make this a police action with actual police involved."

"How?" Tomo said.

"We get an arrest warrant," Torako said, "for Oda Otomo. We'll have the signature of a judge, and the force of the police behind it, instead of just two fugitives, a woman presumed dead, and a secret MoD operative. It won't look like a bunch of rogues plotting a coup. There's still a high degree of failure and jail time, but it'll be minimized greatly if we can get real police in on this, at least."

"Okaaay," Tomo said. "So how are we going to get an arrest warrant?"

...

The next day, blustery and cold, outside in the enclosed yard, standing next to the cinder wall, Kazumi said, "You want me to do WHAT?"


	31. Chapter 31

"We need a warrant for the arrest of Oda Otomo," Tomo said. She mimicked shock by covering her mouth with both hands. "Oh no, you've become deaf! That's really tragic, especially considering your personal hygiene problems."

"I don't have personal- argh, why am I even standing here!" Kazumi said. She stood with her back to the cinderblock wall, surrounded by the safe house's current inhabitants. Tomo displayed an air of superiority, with arrogantly arched eyebrows and a sarcastic smirk. Torako stood directly in front of Kazumi, her expression as bored and frowny as ever. Sakaki had such a severe look that Kazumi thought she was angry, although Kazumi noticed Sakaki's sidelong glances at Tomo and Torako. Osaka's eyes were glazed over and her mouth was parted in a vacuous smile, signaling that she was had removed herself from the conversation. While they may not have intended for Kazumi to feel cornered, Kazumi felt cornered anyway.

"You think you're asking me for an arrest warrant for the prime minister," Kazumi said, a desperate laugh escaping from the middle of her sentence, "but what I hear is career suicide for me and possible jail time for you! It's totally crazy!"

"Maybe," Torako said. "But we're completely serious."

"Is it really that hard to get an arrest warrant?" Tomo said. "Surely you know some judges with a grudge, or ideological dislike of him."

"I do actually, but none of them are so completely stupid to do this!"

"We're going to have to leave the country, Kazumi," Torako said. "For good. None of us want to do that."

"What, and going after Otomo is somehow going to let you stay? Let you integrate back into society like nothing happened? You guys seriously believe that?"

"We don't," Torako said.

"I do!" Tomo said.

"We don't believe it," Torako repeated, frowning at Tomo, "but every action we take at this point is going to be a disaster for us. We lose no matter what we do. Here, at least, we get to choose how we lose."

While the argument was handled by Tomo and Torako, Kazumi couldn't help but notice the effect it had on Sakaki. While starting off with a serious expression, one of deep resolve, Sakaki now looked askance at the two, and Kazumi could even detect some confusion in her bearing.

"Okay, forget all of that," Kazumi said. "What am I going to charge him with? Being a jerk? Listen, do you two actually have any proof outside of your personal experiences? Because that just might not be enough to go on here. Not for me, and certainly not for any judge."

"Oh, you're calling us liars now, huh?" Tomo said. "I should've expected as much, coming from some insulated bourgeois like you."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Kazumi said, clenching her shaking fists. "I'm not insulated, I'm a cop! I put my life on the line every single day!"

"Sounds like a bunch of lame excuses to me," Tomo said, summoning every ounce of condescension she could muster. "I guess you do put your life on the line, considering you could trip on those high heels on the way to the snack machine, but that's just not enough."

Kazumi's rage changed to concern, much to Tomo's surprise. Tomo was about to launch another attack when Kazumi said, "Torako? Are you okay?"

Tomo and Sakaki turned to look at Torako, who had been staring at the ground when Kazumi had asked for proof. She looked up, face hardened like concrete.

"We have proof," Torako said. "Physical proof. I forgot all about it." She looked at Tomo. "You need to see this."

...

After digging around in her closet, Torako entered the kitchen and gave Kazumi an overstuffed clasp-style envelope.

"What is this?" Kazumi said, pulling a brick of papers out of the envelope. Tomo moved in and peered over Kazumi's shoulder.

"It's from chief Akiyama," Torako said. Kazumi's head whipped up in surprise, and Tomo's eyes widened. "I got it in the mail shortly after he was killed." Torako turned away from the group and fumbled with the cabinets, hunting for a glass. Sakaki stood at the corner and watched the proceedings, occupied with her own thoughts. No one noticed that Osaka was still outside, standing in the cold while smiling at the bare cinderblock wall.

Kazumi closed the top sheet and watched Torako as she got her water. "What's this about?" she said.

Torako sat down and placed her glass on the table. She didn't touch it for the rest of the discussion. "It's about a secret group. Rain of Terra." Torako proceeded to summarize the contents.

...

During her explanation, Torako hunted through the stack for the letter chief Akiyama personally typed to her – his rambling confession. She found it and gave it to Tomo, and watched her read it. Torako could tell Tomo got the sense of it when the blood drained from her face.

"I'm sorry," Torako said.

Tomo put the paper down on the table. She mumbled an apology and went to her room, shutting the door behind her. The locked clicked in place.

Kazumi politely ignored Tomo's exit and skimmed through the papers. She also ignored Osaka's belated entrance.

"It's cold outside," Osaka said, smiling as she shut the door. She saw Kazumi at the table. "Oh hi Kazumi, how'd you get here?"

Kazumi bit her lip and looked at Torako. "Oda's name is on here. I know some of these people."

"Yeah," Torako said. "It's been going on for forty years."

"Treason. We can get him for treason."

"I'm a little uncomfortable with that," Torako said. "It'd be hard to convince a jury that such an overtly patriotic prime minister is treasonous. I'd prefer accessory to murder."

"They got Al Capone on tax evasion," Kazumi said. "Treason will work well enough."

Kazumi asked if she could take the rest with her to read, and Torako agreed. Torako then took her glass to the sink and poured out the water. After a half-hearted attempt at watching the news, Torako retired to her room, stealing glances at Tomo's locked door before shutting her own.

…

Torako lay down on her bed and debated turning in early when she heard a knock at her door. Tomo, she thought. She readied herself and answered the door. She managed to hide her surprise upon seeing Sakaki.

"Pardon me, Torako," Sakaki said, with an apologetic bow. "Do you have a moment to speak?"

"Sure," Torako said, wondering what was on Sakaki's mind. Sakaki's neutral expression was as severe as Torako's neutral expression was bored, but Torako could detect nervousness playing on Sakaki's face. Torako shut her door when Sakaki entered, and she heard Tomo's door open at the same time. Took her long enough, she thought.

Sakaki sat on the bed while Torako leaned against the door.

"I want you to know that I respect you as a person and as a friend. So what I'm about to say isn't out of spite."

"Of course," Torako said. "You don't have to be so formal with me. Don't finesse me, just say it."

"Thank you," Sakaki said. She took a deep breath and began. "I think you and Tomo have had some sort of mental breakdown."

"No we haven't!" Tomo shouted from behind the door. Torako punched the door at face level, and Tomo yelped.

"There's something I want to ask you, concerning your plan to arrest Mr. Otomo," Sakaki said. Torako moved away from the door and sat on the bed, sitting next to Sakaki. She smelled sweet and warm, like harvest grain.

"Go ahead," Torako said.

"This isn't about Ms. Ayase anymore, is it?"

Torako felt her heart race. She let out a long breath. "It's still about her."

"I disagree," Sakaki said, blushing at her confrontational words. "I don't think it has been for a while now. I think you and Tomo going after Oda Otomo is purely a personal vendetta."

"Sakaki, I'm going after Oda because of his connection to her murder."

"Torako, please consider this," Sakaki said. "Is it possible that you're deceiving yourself? Ms. Ayase's murder may be your excuse for going after him, but it isn't your reason. The only time you mention Ms. Ayase in connection with Mr. Otomo is when you discussed the writ ex nihilo. Otherwise, your main reason seems to be getting your freedom back. That seemed to be the gist of your argument with Ms. Kondo today."

"My freedom is part of it," Torako said, her voice far away from her thoughts. They both ignored the violently rattling doorknob.

"From my understanding, you already have your freedom. With Osaka's help, you should be able to walk out of here with no complications."

The lock clicked. The door opened, and Tomo fell to the floor.

"No she can't!" Tomo said, looking up at Sakaki. "They'll still try to kill her!" Tomo stood up and shut the door behind her. "Sakaki, why are you trying to call us crazy? It's okay if you don't want to help us."

Sakaki stood up from the bed. Her bearing was calm, and Tomo's stomach sank when she recognized the emotion in her face; pity.

"Tomo, I wouldn't dare call either of you crazy," she said, gently. "Crazy is a social term, not a clinical one. But please, I want you to think carefully about this." Sakaki lowered her head in thought, carefully choosing her next words. Tomo tapped her foot impatiently, while Torako sat on her bed, staring at the floor, her hands in her lap.

Sakaki raised her head. "You were kidnapped and drugged for two days." Sakaki noticed the blatant terror Tomo showed at her opening sentence. She briefly wondered if there was some hidden meaning to it before pressing on. "You don't remember anything from those two days at the beach house, correct?"

"N-no," Tomo said.

"It was some kind of mind control cocktail. I remember Osaka mentioning it, while you were still on the streets. Sodium pentothal and a hallucinogen, which was later discovered to be DMT. You were kept on it for at least two days, and apparently had enough to cause amnesia. That evening, when you came home, you were physically knocked out. Head trauma."

"I recovered from that," Tomo said.

"You were drugged again," Sakaki said. "Possibly the same mixture as last time, although you didn't suffer amnesia." Sakaki paused to steady her resolve. "You were tied and gagged, and beaten."

"Stop," Tomo said. She looked at Torako, who had not changed her position.

"After all that, being drugged and beaten, with some head trauma, you see your husband killed-"

"Stop," Tomo said, quietly.

"Your wounds were treated," Sakaki said. "Then, when you recovered, before you even have a chance to deal with your grief, you were fired. Fired, for political reasons, from a job you loved. What they did to you was wrong, Tomo. It was wrong that they didn't even give you any counseling over your grief and kidnapping. Now, what happens a month later? You attack Oda Otomo and get sliced through the stomach. You experience incredible pain and significant blood loss."

Sakaki closed her eyes, and opened them. "I gave you an overdose of ketamine when I treated your wound. It put you in a dissociative state for nearly six hours, which you don't remember. I'm truly sorry for my mistake, Tomo."

"Hey," Tomo said in a cracked voice. She shrugged. "You saved my life."

Sakaki nodded, grateful. "Where are we now? You were shot full of ketamine, sodium pentothal, and DMT, suffered head trauma, experienced intense grief with no time to deal with it, and intense pain from a potentially lethal attack; all within a period of a month." Sakaki walked toward Tomo, trying to soften her regal features as much as she could. "What happened then?"

"I was homeless," Tomo said. "For almost two months. You know that Sakaki, so why are you asking?"

"Why were you homeless?"

"What do you mean 'why'?" Tomo said. "What do you think? They were after me! I thought Torako was dead, and I was next!"

"How did you get out of it?"

"Eh? I got in contact with Osaka's associate through the classifieds. Alekhine. He sent Osaka to pick me up. You know that."

"Why didn't you do that in the first place?"

"Well," Tomo said. Her eyes oscillated as she attempted to study Sakaki's face. "I didn't think about it."

"You forgot you could contact him?"

"No," Tomo said. "I wanted to see if I could… could do this."

"Do what?" Sakaki said. She walked over toward Torako's dresser and leaned against it. "Live like a vagrant, while wanted by the police? You were homeless during one of the coldest winters Tokyo ever had, and you had a simple way out all that time. Tomo, surely you realize that doesn't make any sense. It's completely illogical."

"Okay, it's stupid!" Tomo said, flinging her hands in the air. "Sakaki wins, yay!" She clapped as sarcastically as she could. "Good for you Sakaki, you got one over me. Whoopty do! You got me to admit I made a mistake. Happy now?"

"You didn't make a mistake," Sakaki said. "And it wasn't stupid."

"Oh? Okay, then what would you call it?"

"Post-traumatic stress disorder," Sakaki said.

"Post..." Tomo trailed off. She looked at Torako, who was staring at the floor, seemingly oblivious to the current exchange.

"Your behavior was one of severe avoidance," Sakaki said. "You isolated yourself, even while working at the... um, gentlemen's club."

"You mean the strip joint?" Tomo said with an impish smirk.

Sakaki reddened. "Yes," she said. "And afterwards, when you lived on the streets, you avoided getting help as long as possible. You having PTSD doesn't even take into consideration the psychological effects you may have suffered from the drugs forced upon you. It's not a good combination."

Tomo's defense to Sakaki's analysis had been overrun. She replayed the last several months, and found gaps in her memory.

"I think you're right," Tomo said, as soft as a kitten's whisker.

"I might not be," Sakaki said. "I think, if you'll please pardon me for saying so, that you do need to see a trained psychologist. However, we have to reconcile your current goal of arresting Oda Otomo with your psychological state. I know you want to go after him, and I will help you and Torako no matter what, but please; think carefully of your true motives and reasons."

A choked and forced voice came from behind them. "You're right." The two looked at Torako as she lifted her face to look at them both. She was pale.

"You're right, Sakaki," Torako said, in a clear voice. "It's not about Asagi anymore. It hasn't been about her for a while." Torako looked straight at Tomo. "I'm doing this for you."

"For me?" Tomo said, pointing a finger at her chest. "Why?"

"Because you were right. What happened to you... it is my fault. I dragged you into this."

"Don't say that," Tomo said. She walked toward Torako and stood in front of her. "No one makes me do anything I don't want to do. I chose to help you, and that's that."

"Okay," Torako said, her face softening into a hidden smile. "I'm doing this for you, to set right what happened to you. Oda Otomo had a hand in all of that – maybe not the biggest – but now that Zhang Ping and Mr. Mainichi are dead, he's the one in your way. I want to take him down so you can rebuild your life."

Torako stood up. "You gave up too much to help my cause," Torako said. "We know who actually murdered Asagi, and he's dead and buried. Now, I want to help you. Will you accept my help?"

"Always," Tomo said. "We're partners, no matter what."

Torako swallowed. "Thank you," she said, and bowed.

"Moron!" Tomo said. "That's not how we do things!" She lunged at Torako and knocked on the bed, hugging her tightly and giggling.

"Get off me, idiot," Torako said, half-heartedly pushing Tomo off of her. She stood up and faced the smiling Sakaki.

"That's why I'm going after Oda Otomo," Torako said. "The real reason."

Before Sakaki could respond, Tomo rushed toward Sakaki, all manic grins and twinkling eyes. Tomo had something planned, and Sakaki feared what it was.

"You wanna know why I'm going after Oda Otomo? The real reason?"

"W-why?" Sakaki said, leaning away from Tomo.

"Because I FEEL like it," Tomo said. She crossed her arms. "I don't need a reason to do anything. I do what I want because I want to. Right Osaka?"

"Right!" Osaka said.

Sakaki looked around in confusion as Torako cocked her head, trying to trace the source of Osaka's disembodied voice. "Where is she?" Torako said.

"Oh, she's hiding under the bed," Tomo said.

"No I'm not!" Osaka said, from under the bed.

"Oh yeah? Then whose voice is that?"

"That wasn't me!" Osaka said.

"In any case," Torako said, purposely interrupting the ridiculous exchange, "us taking down Oda is now in Kazumi's hands. If we expect this to work to our benefit, we need a warrant."

"Psh, we might as well give up now, if we expect Kazumi to get anything done," Tomo said. "Good job getting her involved, Torako. She's failure in high heels."

"That's a little out there," Torako said, and she and Tomo launched into an argument concerning Kazumi's qualifications to help them.

Sakaki excused herself, and walked to her room.

Sakaki wasn't sure if her amateur psychology helped; Torako seemed to have come to an accord with herself, while Tomo appeared to be mostly unchanged. She's going to have to visit a qualified psychologist one day, Sakaki thought, shaking her head. I can't help her. She has too much trauma to deal with on her own.

She opened her book and continued reading from where she had left off. The full realization that she had agreed to help them go after _the prime minister_ finally appeared, and she shivered in dread.

...

Torako, tiredness falling over her like curtains across a stage, forcibly ejected Tomo from her room. She readied herself to dive into her bed when she was distracted by the quiet organic machinery of soft, rhythmic breathing. Confused at first, Torako quickly ascertained the source. She bent down next to her bed and looked underneath it. Osaka had fallen asleep.

"Boy, she can sleep through anything, huh?" Tomo said, squatting next to her. Torako looked behind her and saw the door wide open.

"I wish you'd respect other people's privacy," Torako said.

"I do," Tomo said. "Just not yours."

Torako got off of the floor and sat on her bed. She watched Tomo, who was clearly uncomfortable, fidgeting and looking around the room.

"You aren't going to wake her up?" Tomo said.

"Not yet," Torako said. Tomo wandered around the room, looking at Torako's belongings. She picked up a blue colored glass paperweight from the dresser, and looked at the bottom.

"Stop staring at me," Tomo said.

"You came in here to talk," Torako said. "So talk."

"Nah, I'm just here to annoy you," Tomo said. She dropped the paperweight on the dresser with much clattering. "Whoops, sorry. Heh heh."

"What did you think of the chief's letter?" Torako said.

Tomo absentmindedly played with the paperweight, twirling it around. Torako got up and walked toward the door, shutting it.

"He let someone die so-"

"I know, I read it." Tomo said. She stopped playing with the paperweight and faced Torako. "I don't know how to feel about that. He shouldn't have done it. She didn't deserve to die."

"You don't deserve to die either," Torako said.

Tomo made an exasperated groan. "I know that, okay? I'm glad I'm alive. I don't want to be dead, but I'm alive because I... because they killed her thinking it was me. How am I supposed to feel about that?"

"I don't know," Torako said. "I'm glad you're here, though. I'd rather you be here than Ms. Inoue."

"Geez Torako," Tomo said. "How can you say something so heartless?"

"What happened to her is a tragedy," Torako said. "It's evil. It should never have happened. The chief sullied himself, and I don't think he got to atone before he was killed. But it's you I want here, with me. And if he hadn't done that, you'd be dead."

"Look, I don't know what to feel about it, okay?" Tomo said. "I'm confused. Miruchi should never have been killed in my place, understand? I feel like..." Tomo looked at the floor and shook her head. "I wish I had never seen that letter."

"I'm sorry," Torako said. "I shouldn't have given it to you."

"No," Tomo said. "I needed to know. Look, can we wake up Osaka now?"

"Sure," Torako said, getting off of her bed. "I'm here if you ever want to talk."

"I know," Tomo said.

They both stood, silent, waiting for the other to do something, or say something, to put a proper end to the conversation. Torako gave in first and approached Tomo, giving her a hug.

"You're really touchy-feely these days, Torako," Tomo said, leaning her head on Torako's shoulder and hugging her back.

"I faced my own mortality in the form of a pathetic narcissist with a poorly made pistol," Torako said, speaking into Tomo's soft neck. "I guess I see the need to be a little more appreciative of what I have."

Torako could hear the giggle in Tomo's voice before she even spoke. "You sure you aren't trying to make a move on me now that I'm single again?"

"Ass," Torako said, pushing her away. "And you call me heartless."

Tomo walked toward the bed and leaned down, looking at Osaka. Torako joined her, trying to cut her off before she committed an act of terror against their sleeping friend. Torako reached underneath her bed and shielded Osaka's forehead with her hand. "Osaka, wake up," Torako said, using her hand to shake Osaka's head.

"What are you doing?" Tomo said. "You aren't going to wake her up that way. And what's with your hand on her forehead?"

"She's going to shoot straight up when she wakes up," Torako said. "I'm trying to keep her from getting hurt."

"Looks perverted to me," Tomo said, shoving Torako away. "Now watch a master do it." Tomo reached underneath the bed and grabbed Osaka's cheek, stretching it like taffy. "Osaka! Wake up! We're going to build a giant sand castle!"

"I want to make minarets," Osaka said, as she shot straight up. Her forehead hit the underframe of the bed, and she yelped in pain. She cradled her forehead with both hands, trying to rub the pain away.

"You're a jerk, Tomo," Torako said.

"Hey, you're the one that kept asking to wake her up," Tomo said. "Don't get mad at me, get mad at yourself."

"Osaka, you need me to pull you out?" Torako said.

Osaka said, "Uh-huh", and nodded her head. Torako reached under the bed and gripped Osaka's shoulders, pulling her out from under the bed.

...

Kazumi stayed late in her office, plowing through the thick document chief Akiyama had given to Torako. She double-checked dates and references, making the occasional phone call to the Central Police Records Database to request data on certain court cases mentioned in the document; cases mentioned as being steered toward an outcome dictated by members of Rain of Terra. Hours later, after the office had changed shifts and Kazumi was the only remaining day shift officer available, she decided she had enough evidence to arrest Oda Otomo on tampering evidence on at least two different court cases.

Then there were the dozens of people implicated in this document as well. Kazumi decided that the Criminal Investigations Bureau would need an entire new wing and a whole year to investigate the veracity of these claims. She typed up a warrant request and sealed it, and her documents, in her personal safe. It was ten minutes before eleven when Kazumi was ready to go home.

...

The next morning, fresh and ready, Kazumi requested a meeting with a judge known to have a strong anti-authoritarian bias, as well as a rumored history of participating in the student riots of 1968. The court secretary granted her meeting, so Kazumi brought the warrant request and what would be known as the Akiyama document to the judge's office. She had mentally prepared her arguments, and felt she was ready to counter any question or objection judge Ikewaki brought up.

One thing she couldn't understand was why Torako didn't turn in this document the instant she got it. Sure, Torako may have been suffering from depression and wasn't in her right mind, but to be a sworn officer of the law and not turn in evidence detailing a mass conspiracy against the government was a severe negligence of one's duty. She would have to discuss that with Torako when she got the chance.

Two hours later, after arguing her case and presenting the judge with all the evidence she had, Kazumi was granted a secret arrest warrant for Oda Otomo.

"You say you need two temporary assistant badges? Who are you planning to draft?"

"There are two people who were deeply involved in bringing this matter to light," Kazumi said. "They both have training in gun usage, one being a reserve in the SDF." And the other is an escaped fugitive wanted for murder, Kazumi didn't say.

"It'll take several days for me to clear the badges," the judge said. "I'll sign an arrest warrant the instant they come in. I hope you understand the trust I'm putting in you, Officer Kondo." Judge Ikewaki leaned over his desk to face Kazumi. "If we fail to get a conviction, your and my career is over."

"I understand," Kazumi said, forcing herself not to gulp. She thanked him for his help, and left the office.

...

Kazumi quickly texted Torako the news while standing in line at the police cafeteria. She chose a bowl of udon. She was dazed at what had just happened, and was experiencing feelings similar to buyer's remorse.

I can't believe I just did that, Kazumi thought, as she carried her lunch to an empty table. Tomo and Torako, that whole lot, really, are completely crazy. Their craziness has infected me. I've lost my mind.

She sat down at the table and took a deep breath to calm herself. She broke her chopsticks at the same moment a man pulled up a chair and sat in front of her.

"I want in," he said.

Kazumi looked up, projecting as much indifference as she could. "In on what?"

"Whatever it is you're up to," he said. "I want in."

Kazumi took time-out from her natural condescension toward men of a certain age, and read his police badge.

"Lieutenant Hiro Tezuka," Kazumi said. She stirred her udon with her chopsticks, watching the spiral pattern it formed. "This doesn't concern the traffic division, so there isn't much you can do."

"Torako's alive, isn't she?"

Kazumi stopped stirring and looked at Hiro, her eyes narrowing.

"Listen, I'm on her side. You can trust me."

"Didn't you try to get her killed in a high speed chase? Is that what passes as trust with you?"

"I've noticed you traveling outside of Chiyoda, to Nerima. Way out of your jurisdiction."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I was in a bad place then," Hiro said. "I'm different now."

"Men don't change."

"Nice, a sweeping generalization. They teach you that at the academy?"

"I'm going to eat somewhere else," Kazumi said, picking up her bowl. "Please don't follow me, lieutenant."

"I saw the building you've been going in," Hiro said before Kazumi could get up. "How about I drop by and pay a visit to whatever's inside? Assuming the ministry of defense doesn't mind me poking around one of their safe houses."

Kazumi began eating her udon while Hiro watched. He smiled as she tried to ignore him. "This is immature behavior. I'm offering to help you."

Kazumi slapped her chopsticks on the lid of the bowl with enough force to cause members at the surrounding tables to stare at her in surprise.

"There's that legendary temper," Hiro said, breaking into a massive grin.

"You have no idea what you're getting into," Kazumi hissed, leaning over the table. Hiro continued his maddening grin. "This could cost lives and careers, you understand?"

Hiro shrugged. "I'm fine with that. This isn't a career I want to keep, being a den mother to a bunch of silly meter maids." Hiro stood up before Kazumi could further express her anger. He walked toward her, losing his grin. Kazumi leaned away from him.

"Ask her," he said, putting emphasis on _her_ so that Kazumi had no doubt who he was talking about. "If she says no, I understand. But if she says yes, I'll expect to be hearing from you soon." He smiled again. "Good day officer."

...

"Sure," Torako said.

"What?" Kazumi said. "After what he's done to you?"

"He's dependable," Torako said. "He'll do what he says he's going to do. He can be overwatch."

Kazumi's eyebrows made a query. "Overwatch?"

Torako beckoned her to follow her inside, and Kazumi complied. Torako led her to the kitchen, where the residents of the safe house were huddled around the kitchen table. Floor plans and notebooks covered the table thicker than any tablecloth.

Osaka thrust her hand into the air as a symbol of greeting. "Hi Kazumi!" she said. "I get to be a scout!"

"A scout?" Kazumi said.

Tomo, who was digging through the refrigerator for a bottle of orange juice, marched over to her chair and gestured at the papers infesting the table. "Look at this!" she said. "Blueprints of the Kantei, plans of attack, back-up plans, the works! It's crazy!"

"We can't be too careful," Torako said. "This has to go off without a hitch. We're getting a delivery of surplus weapons and a radio system in two days from a quartermaster at the SDF. He owes Sakaki a favor."

"Torako, it's a warrant, not a declaration of war," Kazumi said. "It's a simple matter of delivering a sheet of paper to the prime minister's office."

"Oh come on Kazumi," Tomo said, opening her bottle of juice, sloshing some overflow onto her notebook. "This is just more of Torako's ridiculous paranoia. Just go along with it, don't fight it."

"This is how it goes," Torako said. "Osaka is the scout. She'll sneak in and clear the path for us, and give us directions over our radios. You, me, Tomo, and Sakaki are the fireteam. We'll split into cells if we have to."

Kazumi giggled like a schoolmarm pushed to the edge of her reason. "Is this for real? Are we really going to treat it like a military operation? We have badges and warrants-"

"Kazumi," Torako said. "Listen to me. You got us a warrant, so now we have clandestine backing from the Ministry of Defense, according to Osaka."

"Yep!" Osaka said.

"Clandestine in the sense that, if we successfully arrest him, they'll support us. If we fail-"

"-then they deny knowledge of our actions. I know how it works." Kazumi plopped into a chair next to Sakaki, who was pouring over a notebook, pen in hand. The weight of what she was about to do with these people was nearly suffocating. "This is the craziest thing I've ever done."

"Same here," Torako said. "But if we plan it well, we'll pull it off." Torako tossed Kazumi a notebook. "As I was saying, we have our scout and our fireteam. With Hiro, we'll have our overwatch. I know a building where he can build a SIGINT base and, if need be, a sniper nest."

"A sniper nest?" Kazumi said, nearly shouting.

Torako frowned. "I'm treating this as a life or death matter, understand? I don't care if you or anyone else-" she spared a look at Tomo, "-calls me paranoid, but I have to be sure of all possible outcomes. We may just be able to march in and arrest Oda without a hitch. Or, worst case scenario, we'll have to fight our way in and out."

Kazumi stood up from her chair and backed away from the table, shaking her head. "Fight our way in? You mean kill people? These aren't criminals, Torako, they're civil security! They're doing their job and their duty to Japan!"

"Which is why Osaka is our scout," Torako said. "She'll provide the route we need to avoid unnecessary conflict."

"Torako," Kazumi said. She pointed at Osaka, her disbelief apparent. "Her? Really?"

"Hey, you don't know!" Tomo said. "I've seen her in action. She's like a walking kung fu movie!"

"I'm a military experiment," Osaka said, as if it was a grand discovery. "But I don't know what I'm doing when I do it, so don't tell me I'm doing it. I'll get messed up and I'd hate for another car to get destroyed. I also don't want to smell like soy sauce again."

Torako could see the fight-or-flight response gearing up in Kazumi's head, and the needle was clearly pointing toward flight. Torako marched in front of her and stared into her eyes. "Look at me," she said.

Kazumi looked at her, and, this time, couldn't hold back her gulp.

"Do you trust me?" Torako said.

"Y-yeah."

"Good. Then let me handle the planning. No one is going to get killed, okay? No one. That doesn't mean we can't plan for the unthinkable. Understand?"

"I understand," Kazumi said. She looked away. "This seems so crazy, it's just… I think I just realized what I'm getting into." She looked back at Torako, this time with firmer resolve. "But I'll stick with this to the end."

"Thanks," Torako said, she and Kazumi ignoring Tomo's gagging sounds.

"But if it makes you feel better," Torako said, walking back to the table while giving Tomo the evil eye, "we also have an interdictor."

"An interdictor?" Kazumi said, sitting back down.

"Yep, Osaka got us one," Tomo said, patting Osaka on the back.

"I mean, I don't even know what an interdictor is."

"He'll ruin the Kantei security force's lines of communication," Torako said. "And, allegedly, cause a material and personnel shortage. He attacks their logistics. I'm not sure how that's going to happen, but I'll take Osaka's word for it."

"You hear that Kazumi?" Tomo said. "You don't have to shoot anyone at all. Man, it's great that the Ministry of Defense has our back, huh Osaka?"

"Oh, they don't know about him," Osaka said. "He's actually provided by the US embassy."

Torako groaned and palmed her face, while Tomo slammed her fist into the table. "It better not be who I think it is!" she said.

"Oh, it isn't," Osaka said. "James Bond works for England, anyway."

"That's not who I meant, Osaka," Tomo said.

"We aren't supposed to have any contact with him during the mission," Torako said. "We won't bump into him."

"Hold on a minute," Kazumi said, leaning forward. "Why is the US government involved?"

"It's complicated," Torako said. Tomo snorted. "It has to do with Osaka's past. Sort of a joint effort between them and the Ministry of Defense. It'll take too long to explain, and we need to study over our plan." Torako sat down, and opened her notebook. "Let's go over the infiltration plan on page three."

Kazumi opened her notebook and looked over at Sakaki, who had been leaning over her own notebook. "Well doctor, do you have anything to say about this?"

"No," Sakaki said, as she doodled a picture of a floating anthropomorphic cat.


	32. Chapter 32

"Hey, Torako," Tomo said. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"I have a gun," Tomo said, patting her coat. "What do you think about that?"

With one gloved hand in her pocket, Torako used her free hand to take a sip of her coffee. She was sitting on a bench with the grinning Tomo, on the park grounds across the street from the service entrance to the Kantei. Across the park, the grass topped with early morning frost, was the shivering Kazumi, her hands dipped straight into her pockets. She was standing next to a trashcan, its green exterior dotted with rust and sporting a brand new black garbage bag. Next to Kazumi, standing under a magnolia guarded by a moat of dead leaves, was Sakaki tossing crumbs to a gang of unruly pigeons violently vying for ownership of their food-distributing goddess. Sakaki tried to act as peacemaker, explaining that there was enough for everyone, but the birds refused to listen.

"I have a gun too," Torako said.

"Yeah, but my gun is better than your gun."

"I have a full-size Sig Sauer P250 configured for ACP bullets. You have a Glock 17. Nine millimeter."

"Ooh, I have a Glock!" Tomo said. "All the rappers have Glocks. That automatically makes my gun cooler than yours!"

Sakaki admitted defeat as a negotiator, and retreated from the squabbling pigeons. She made her way to the trashcan, scaring off a jogger hitting on Kazumi.

"That's because it's a gun for the unskilled," Torako said. "Untrained people can use a Glock without worrying about it accidentally going off and shooting themselves in the foot. A Sig is for professionals."

Tomo launched a powerful look of disgust. "Ugh, what are you, some kind of gun fetishist? That's sick, Torako. You need help."

"I don't have a fetish," Torako said. "I just know my job."

"This is the Big O, and I'm in like you wouldn't believe," Osaka said, the four women hearing her voice from the clip-on radio attached behind their respective ears. It was the latest in two-way communication, allowing the wearers to hear each other without worrying about other people catching in on the conversation. It was also able to transmit the wearer's voice without the wearer having to raise it. Torako, at least, considered it proof that Sakaki's quartermaster friend delivered on his promise.

Osaka sounded like she was next to any one of the four women, instead of being deep in the bowels of the Kantei. "Got it cleared all excellent-like. Ya'll can walk into the service entrance no problem."

Tomo grimaced at Osaka's chosen tactical designation, or call sign, but she didn't say anything. She couldn't, after Osaka explained that her chosen call sign was in honor of Rico's nickname for her.

Torako glanced around the park, making sure no one suspicious was spying on the group. "Maverick, status please," Torako said, hiding her scorn at Hiro's chosen call sign.

"Sights are clear," Hiro said. Torako made sure not to look at the bank building several blocks away, where Hiro was perched, although she noticed with some irritation that Tomo looked. "I have camera feed, with the exception of the target's office."

"Do you have sight of target?" Torako said.

"He's standing with his back to the window," Hiro said. "Looking at the door. He hasn't moved. He's a little weirdo, but we'll smack some sense into him."

Torako stood up, crunching the frost topping the grass. Tomo nearly jumped out of her seat, while Kazumi watched coyly across the park, breathing vapor into the cold air. Only Sakaki seemed disinterested.

"Interdictor in?" Torako said.

"Copy that," Osaka said. "But don't look at him if you see him."

"Why would I want to?" Tomo said. She shivered and brr'd. "Geez, it's cold. Do something about this weather!"

"I tried changing it with my mind," Osaka said, "but then I got all sleepy."

Torako held out her hand, pulling up the sleeve to her leather fighter jacket to reveal her watch. She tapped it nonchalantly, and started her journey toward the Kantei. From across the park, Kazumi nodded.

"Let's mosey," Torako said.

"I'm going to throw up," Tomo said.

...

The Kantei building was cold and stern, like a disapproving father. Despite that, it had solidity and elegance, although Tomo felt the elegance was a little too sparse for her tastes. Torako and Tomo walked underneath the awning covering the service entrance. Normally there would be several guards stationed outside, checking ID badges and signing ledgers, but not one was in sight. Even the sign-in booth was empty.

"Wow," Tomo said. "This will be a cakewalk."

"The interdictor's doing his job," Torako said.

The two walked into the entrance. A receptionist, already haggard and disheveled, tried her best to smile in greeting. She failed.

"How may I help you?" The receptionist said when Tomo and Torako approached the desk.

"Emiri and Ryoko Ishikawa," Torako said. She rested her elbow on the front desk and acted bored – the easiest acting job she ever had. "We have an appointment with Mr. Tanaka."

"Just one moment," the receptionist said. She punched in a button and Hiro transmitted the conversation over their private radio, as their interdictor, squared away in the TelCo room, pretended to be Mr. Tanaka. He actually disguised his terrible accent. The receptionist hung up her phone.

"The elevators are on the second floor, at the end of the grand hall," she said, pointing at the stairs leading to the second floor. "He's expecting you." The phone rang again. The receptionist sighed and answered it.

"Who was that guy?" Hiro said, sounding like the popular jock sniffing out a new rival.

"Can the chatter," Torako said, barely moving her lips. Tomo and Torako took the stairs to the second floor, which housed the grand foyer. Torako's boots sounded louder than normal in the wide expanse. Tomo looked around the inner court with awe.

"Wow," Tomo said. "I've never been in here before. Look at those bamboo." She pointed at the bamboo jutting out of granite rocks. The bamboo towered over the lobby, as high as the third floor walkway. The retractable roof, normally allowing in sunshine or even rain for the bamboo grove, was closed due to the cold weather.

"Yeah, it's nice," Torako said. She checked her watch; Kazumi and Sakaki should be coming in now. Tomo and Torako approached the elevators, and Torako jabbed a button while Tomo hummed to herself.

"Drinks cost three hundred yen," Osaka said. "That's a terrible rip-off. But I guess that's politicians for ya."

"Great scouting there, Big O," Tomo said. "How about you let us know how much newspapers cost?"

"Ooh, that's a great idea T- Wildcat," Osaka said. "You oughta be scoutin' too!"

"Knock it off," Torako said. The elevator opened, and the two stepped inside.

"Wait," Kazumi shouted, as her and Sakaki ran toward the elevator. Kazumi was fast in her walking shoes, while Sakaki's long duster didn't billow out with her running. This wasn't surprising, considering she was smuggling a FAMAS assault rifle. Tomo thought it was an odd choice, but really, Sakaki with any sort of gun was just weird.

...

"Whoa, that thing's huge," Tomo had said last night, when they crowded around the wooden crate containing a variety of weapons and ammo. Sakaki held up the FAMAS and studied it. "You really want to carry that thing around, Sakaki?"

"I don't think we'll need an assault rifle," Kazumi said, as she shot angry daggers at Torako. "This isn't an anti-terrorist operation."

Sakaki took the rifle to the kitchen table and field stripped it in record time. Even Torako was speechless. Sakaki checked each part and rebuilt it.

"It's... cute," Sakaki said, her snowy cheeks showing a cherry flush. Tomo was afraid to pursue that conversation, and decided she'd just have to get used to it.

...

Torako held open the elevator while Tomo made sounds of frustration and rolled her eyes. Kazumi and Sakaki made it in, and the elevator shut behind them.

"I flashed my badge and ran on through," Kazumi said. "She was on the phone. Lucky break."

Tomo punch floor number five. "Maverick, status," Torako said.

"I see four beautiful women," Hiro said. "Running audio track. If security decides to listen in, they'll hear talk about shopping."

"Thanks," Torako said. The elevator floor indicator displayed the third floor.

"Why is this elevator so slow?" Tomo said.

"There's some kind of power shortage going on over there," Hiro said. "It's almost half-power. The lights will probably be pretty dim, too."

"Newspapers are two hundred yen," Osaka broke in. "They hate everybody here."

"I was joking!" Tomo said. The elevator floor indicator displayed the fourth floor.

"Target status," Torako said.

"Same," Hiro said. "It's like he's a statue. I am really creeped out now."

"There ain't nothing my way," Osaka said.

"I'm going to throw up," Tomo said.

The elevator floor indicator displayed fifth floor. The doors parted, and through the widening crack, Torako saw black-suited men with pistols aimed right at her. She immediately ripped out her gun and opened fire.

She slammed into the elevator wall next to the control panel, and jabbed the close-door button hard enough to hurt her finger. She was sure her gunfire hit one of them. The remaining men opened fire. Kazumi and Tomo flattened against the other wall, Kazumi pulling out her .32 service revolver. Sakaki slumped to the floor.

"Sakaki!" Tomo shouted.

"Tomo, get your gun out now!" Torako said. She punched the close door button again while Kazumi returned fire, gritting her teeth in fear. "I can't get this damn door closed!"

"I've been kicked out of the security system," Hiro shouted. "Abort mission! Abort, abort!"

"Osaka, get over here!" Torako shouted.

Blood rushed from underneath Sakaki's body as she lie face down on the elevator floor. Sakaki attempted to lift herself up, blood pouring from her mouth and eye socket, but collapsed to the floor for the final time. Tomo let loose a guttural scream, twisting her soul as it escaped.

"Get your gun out now!" Torako shouted, firing suppressive fire while Kazumi reloaded her revolver.

A grenade bounced into the elevator, and exploded.

...

"Hey, Torako," Tomo said. "Guess what?"

"You got a gun."

"Yep!" Tomo said, patting her chest. "You sure are observant today. You must've been a detective, huh?"

"It's the second time you've done that dumb joke," Torako said.

"Eh? I don't think so."

Torako ignored her and took another sip of her coffee. Sakaki failed to peacefully feed a gang of evil pigeons. Kazumi stood with her hands in her pockets, moving her body to ward off the cold.

"Anyway, my gun is better than yours."

"Yep," Torako said.

"Geez, what got into you? I'm trying to lighten the mood."

"Just pensive, I guess," Torako said. She couldn't help herself, and looked at the top of the bank building two blocks down, where Hiro was holed up. She took a sip of her coffee.

"Like I was saying, I'm in," Osaka said, her voice coming from a miniature clip-on radio, hidden behind the respective ears of the four-woman team. "I'm ready if ya'll are. I mean, I'm ready now. Now you guys have to be ready."

"Yeah," Torako said. "Maverick, status."

Hiro said everything was clear, and commented on Oda Otomo's unmoving appearance.

Torako stood up, Tomo standing up with her. Kazumi coyly watched her from across the park, while Sakaki watched the pigeons. Torako pulled the sleeve up from her jacket, and tapped her watch.

"Let's mosey," Torako said. Her brow furrowed in confusion, but she let it pass.

"I'm going to throw up," Tomo said.

...

"Um, something ain't right," Osaka said, as Tomo and Torako entered the service entrance. Neither Tomo nor Torako spoke, as they were being watched by the ruffled receptionist.

"What is it?" Kazumi said, her crystal voice coming in over the radio. She and Sakaki were still outside.

"Don't take the escalators, okay?" Osaka said.

"I didn't know they had escalators," Tomo said. Torako elbowed Tomo; Tomo looked like she was talking to herself.

The duo checked in under their false identity, and were given directions to the elevators. They entered and held the door open for Kazumi and Sakaki, both running as if they were about to miss it. Tomo heaved sighs and rolled her eyes.

"What's the deal about escalators?" Kazumi said.

"Who knows," Torako said, as she and Tomo jabbed the fifth floor button at the same time. "Maverick, status," Torako said.

"I see four beautiful women," Maverick said. "I'm playing some background chatter about shopping, if whatever security decides to listen in."

"Target status," Torako said, as the counter ticked the passing of the third floor.

"He's as still as a statue," Maverick said. "He hasn't moved an inch. I'm really creeped out."

Tomo laughed as the fourth floor passed. "I just thought of something."

"What's that?" Torako said.

"Osaka," Tomo said, as the elevator stopped at the fifth floor. "She always gets her elevators and escalators confused."

The elevator doors opened, and the men standing outside opened fire. Torako slammed herself into the wall next to the control panel, but not before a bullet tore into her stomach. She shouted and went limp, breaking her fall by landing on her knees. She concentrated enough through the pain to pull out her gun and return fire. Tomo slumped to the floor. Torako could barely contain an anguished moan as she fired chaotically at the attacking men.

"Control!" Kazumi shouted at her, as she returned fire in a more disciplined fashion. Sakaki stood pressed against the wall behind Torako, staring wide-eyed at Tomo's body. "Osaka, get over here!" Kazumi shouted.

A grenade bounced into the elevator, and exploded.

...

"Hey Torako," Tomo said. "Guess... Torako?"

Torako, with pale face and heavy breathing, stared at Tomo. She clutched her stomach and bent over, nearly falling off of the bench.

"Torako!" Tomo said, standing up and putting a hand on her back.

"S-something's wrong," Torako said, sweat drenching her face as if she had awoken from night terrors. She looked up and saw Sakaki and Kazumi walking over. "Don't come over here," Torako said, forcing herself to sit up. "Go back."

"What's wrong?" Tomo said.

"Are you okay?" Hiro said, his voice coming in over the radio.

Torako shook her head. "Don't know," she said. She rubbed her eye with the heel of her hand.

"This ain't right." Osaka muttered. Louder, she said, "I'm going to have to meet you at the esca... elevators. We're going to have to change our route a fair bit."

"We need to call it off," Tomo said. "Torako isn't feeling well."

"No," Torako said, standing up. She stomped a foot out to keep her balance, crunching the frozen grass beneath her boot. She slowly pulled her sleeve up, tapped the watch, and made her way to the service entrance.

"You look like you're going to throw up," Tomo said.

...

Osaka was waiting for them at the elevators. Tomo was glad she wasn't wearing a dress for this mission. At least she has some sense, Tomo thought.

"What's going on?" Tomo said, as Kazumi and Sakaki caught up with the group.

"I dunno, but whatever it is, it ain't right," Osaka said.

"What isn't right?" Kazumi said.

"I dunno," Osaka said.

Kazumi looked straight at Torako. "Yeah, great scout."

"We need to take the stairs back here," Osaka said, pointing down the hall leading away from the elevators. "Not the main ones, but the side ones. You know, the station stairs."

"Service stairs," Sakaki said.

"Yeah, them stairs," Osaka said. "Follow me."

The group followed Osaka down a brightly lit hall empty of other people. Pictures of important people from times past graced the wall, Sakaki the only one recognizing them all. She didn't share her knowledge with the others, as she figured it wasn't appropriate.

They reached a fork in the hall and turned left, stopping at a metal door with an exit sign above it. Osaka grasped the thick metal bar and pushed the door open.

Air as cold as a morgue at an abandoned hospital and darkness like an old cemetery escaped from the doorway with a banshee moan.

"Uh..." Osaka said. Sakaki shivered and pulled her black leather duster around herself.

"I'm not going in there!" Tomo said. "No way!"

"Come on guys," Kazumi said. "It's just stairs."

"You go first then," Tomo said.

Kazumi swallowed. "I'm not on point," she said.

"Ha!" Tomo said, thrusting her pompous grin at Kazumi's face. "You're afraid!"

"So are you!" Kazumi said.

"Osaka," Torako said. "Why are we taking the stairs?"

"Something's wrong, I think," Osaka said.

"You think?"

"I know, I'll scout ahead," Osaka said, blasting the area with her goofy smile. "I'll let ya'll know what's up on the fifth floor."

"Wait," Torako said, but Osaka plunged into the darkness, the steel door closing behind her with an ancient creak. Torako grabbed the door handle and pushed. The door wouldn't budge.

"We're locked out," Torako said. She was about to raise Osaka on the radio when Kazumi violently lurched backwards as bullets tore into her. Her blood splattered the bamboo veneer wall as her body went limp, falling to the white stone floor.

Torako and Sakaki dove to the floor, Torako pulling out her pistol and returning fire at the black-suited men at the end of the hall. A scream and gunfire came from behind them as Tomo returned fire, one shot hitting the light fixture, and another breaking the glass covering a picture of a prime minister form long ago. The men scattered and hid behind the fork leading to the hall.

"What are you shooting at?" Torako shouted. Pain registered from her knee, mocking her for diving so hard at a stone floor. Sakaki had shown more finesse diving to the floor, and was unharmed.

"Hey, it drove them away!" Tomo said, as she squatted on her knees, her pistol aimed at the end of the hall. Sakaki, lying on the floor, had her assault rifle out, although she had not returned fire.

"Officer down!" Torako shouted, as she got to her feet, her gun's aim not wavering from the hall corner, where the men were hiding. "You have shot an officer of the law! Call an ambulance!" She didn't dare look behind her. She could smell the blood.

A grenade bounced down the hallway, and exploded.

...

Torako launched herself from the park bench, spilling her coffee. The hot black tar melted the frost on the grass.

"Torako?" Tomo said, looking up at her partner.

"Abort mission," Torako said. "They know we're coming."

"Maverick here," Hiro said, ensconced in his nest at the building across the street from the Kantei. "There are no communications coming from the building. You sure about that?"

"Hey, O- Big O," Tomo said, smirking. "What's the status?"

The five waited for a reply, but none came.

"Big O? Osaka? You there?" Tomo looked up at Torako. "I can't raise her."

"It might be malfunctioning equipment," Kazumi said, her voice coming through the radio. She stood across the park, facing Sakaki, just so it wouldn't look like she was talking to herself. Sakaki nodded.

"Either way, we can't do it without our scout," Torako said. "Let's get out of here."

"Wait!" Tomo said, standing up. "Osaka's in there!"

"She knows to get out if she can't contact us," Torako said. "We went over this. She's not in any danger."

"Torako," Tomo said, "what if she's been captured? She's not invincible. We can't just leave her there!"

Torako surveyed the Kantei building, her expression grim and tired. For the first time since she had been shot, she patted herself for a cigarette before remembering that she stopped smoking. "Yeah," Torako said. "We can't."

"Well let's go get her!" Tomo said.

"Tomo," Kazumi said, "that's not going to work. We have no idea where to start looking for her."

Torako squeezed Tomo's shoulder before Tomo was able to launch a vindictive reply. "Let's keep to the mission," Torako said. "That's the best way to find her, to get to our target as fast as possible. Maybe we can contact Alekhine to find her."

"Who?" Kazumi said.

"We're not supposed to be in contact with him!" Tomo said. "Osaka said not to look at him, remember?"

"When did she say that?" Torako said.

Tomo opened her mouth, but, rare for her, nothing came out. She slowly closed her mouth as she looked into the distance of the park. "I could have sworn," she said, trailing off. She looked straight at Torako, her face a portrait of confusion. "What's going on here, Torako? Something feels wrong!"

"I don't know," Torako said. Kazumi and Sakaki walked over to the two, and Torako didn't bother to stop them. "Listen, we aren't in contact with him, but he is in contact with Osaka. If he can't raise her, you know he'll go find her. Trust me, okay?"

Tomo lowered her head. "Okay," she said.

Torako nodded. "We're going in," Torako said. "You three can bow out if you want to."

"Seriously?" Kazumi said, her and Sakaki standing with the group. "I have the warrant. I'm in if you're in."

"I'm in," Sakaki said.

"Same here," Hiro said.

"Alright," Tomo said. "Now we're talking!"

"Let's assume they know we're coming," Torako said. "We'll go in together. Be prepared."

...

The four women entered the elevator. Tomo punched the fifth floor. Torako staggered and leaned against the wall.

"Are you okay?" Sakaki said. Her query caused Tomo and Kazumi to look at Torako with concern. Torako wiped her forehead, and stared at the sweat on the back of her hand. She slowly came to, and looked at the crew.

"Get your guns out," she snapped. "Now!" She pulled her own pistol out, and smashed the third floor button with her fist.

"Okay, I really am going to throw up now," Tomo said, as she pulled out her pistol.

Torako turned to Tomo. "Tomo, you and Kazumi take the main stairs – not the service stairs - to the fifth floor and cover us. Hurry!" The elevator dinged at the third floor, and Tomo and Kazumi rushed out. Torako immediately tapped the close-door button, and the doors shut as the elevator ascended to the fifth floor.

Torako, in the middle of the elevator, got on one knee and pointed her gun at the meeting place between the two elevator doors. Sakaki flattened herself against the elevator wall next to the control panel, her assault rifle at the ready. Torako had to admit, with her long black leather duster and her severe scowl, that Sakaki looked scary with her FAMAS.

Sakaki ruined that effect with her quivering voice. "Um, Torako?"

"Yeah," Torako said, not budging.

"I- I don't know if I can shoot anyone."

"Just shoot at the ceiling," Torako said. This is our modern SDF, Torako thought with a grimace. "Cause a mess. Suppressive fire, okay?"

The elevator announced its stop at the fifth floor with a ding. The doors barely had time to part before Torako opened fire, shooting into the widening opening.

...

"Gunfire!" Tomo shouted, as she ran up the stairs. "Hurry up slowpoke!" Kazumi, in front of Tomo, huffed in response.

They made it to the fifth floor, and burst through the door. They couldn't see it, but they could clearly hear Sakaki's FAMAS tearing into the ceiling and wall, carving out bits of stone and ripping apart ceiling tile, the debris coating the floor like snow. One man lay on the floor in front of the elevator, clutching his abdomen, his pistol like a useless toy lying on the floor. Three other men with pistols were pressed against the wall next to the elevator, their backs to Kazumi and Tomo.

"Police!" Kazumi shouted, holding up her badge while she trained her gun at the closest man. The three turned around, hesitating to fire when they saw the badge and gun. "You are attacking deputized officers of the law! On the floor or I'll shoot!" Kazumi was confident her command would be obeyed, as she could see the fear in the men's eyes.

Her confidence was shattered when Tomo shouted, "Take this!" and opened fire. She shattered a fluorescent bulb, raining sparks down onto the carpet already blanketed with shredded ceiling and wall. She destroyed a vase sitting on a table in front of the elevators. A mirror shattered. The soda machine down the hall burst open, spraying a fine brown mist of carbonated sugar water. Ten rounds later, her gun clicked empty.

Torako dashed out of the elevator, aiming her pistol at the men quivering in fear. "Stand up! Drop your weapons!" She shouted. Sakaki joined her, her stern expression causing the already cowering men to gulp.

Kazumi, white hot with fury, turned her head toward Tomo. She wanted to speak, but rage throttled her voice.

"What?" Tomo said, shrugging at her. "I was scared."

...

The men were tied up and gagged, and ushered into an empty office. Tomo interrogated them on Osaka's whereabouts, but they didn't know what she was talking about.

"No alarms," Hiro said. "Not even calls to the police. Surely someone heard all that gunfire."

"I think this whole wing is deserted," Torako said. "We need to move."

"Who are these guys?" Kazumi said. "They aren't the Official Residence Guard."

Sakaki squatted next to the man Torako shot. He held his hands over his side, blood seeping through his fingers. He moaned, gritting his teeth, his face so constricted that it looked like it would implode.

"He needs a hospital," Sakaki said. "Soon."

"Maverick, go ahead and call in an ambulance," Torako said. "We're going to have to end this quick." She picked up one of the pistols the men carried, and studied it. Tomo scurried up next to her.

"What is it?" she said.

"They didn't fire back," Torako said, ejecting the magazine. "This thing is empty."

"Empty?"

"Yeah." Torako dropped it on the floor. "Let's get moving."

Torako, Kazumi, and Sakaki headed down the hallway, stepping over shards of a broken mirror. Tomo headed in the opposite direction.

"Tomo," Torako said, "this way."

Tomo huffed and cocked her chin at the group like a petulant child. Kazumi groaned, knowing annoyance was ahead.

"I'm going to look for Osaka," Tomo said, crossing her arms.

Torako marched toward Tomo, her bored frown turning to one of anger. Tomo flinched, but she stood her ground.

"You are not," Torako said. "We have to work together to pull this off, understand? You are not leaving us."

Tomo performed the impossible, making herself look even more petulant than before. It was if she had to defy the laws of nature to make herself look even more obnoxious. "You can't tell me what to do," Tomo said. "I'm going to look for Osaka, and that's that."

"I don't have time to argue with you," Torako said, turning away. "Kazumi, Sakaki, deliver the warrant to Oda. I'll go with Tomo."

"What?" Kazumi said, as Tomo stuck her tongue out at Kazumi.

"She's going to get herself killed," Torako said. "She can't aim worth anything."

"I said I was scared, okay?" Tomo said.

"Go," Torako said to Kazumi and Sakaki. Sakaki nodded, and headed down the hall, away from Torako and Tomo. Kazumi huffed, following Sakaki.

"Okay," Torako said. "What's your plan?"

Tomo opened her mouth, and tendrils as black as entropy spilled out. Torako's peripheral vision shut down, as seeping blackness crawled over the hallway, as thick and congealed as ichor from a long dead god.

A voice came from Tomo, like a garbled transmission from a short wave radio station thousands of kilometers away.

"Ein, zwei drei, vier, funf, sechs, sieben, acht, neun, null," came the voice from Tomo. It repeated itself as Torako fell to the floor.

...

Torako gained consciousness, entering a world of pain. She clutched her chest and felt warm blood. Her eyes refocused.

"I'm impressed," Ryo Watanabe said, standing over her with his .22 pistol. The scar on his lip, created by Torako's knife, was pulsating with hate. "Most other people would've died from shock by now. Of course, you're going to die of shock anyway-"

"Wait," Torako gurgled, as she lay on the floor of Jichiro's koban.

"That's the problem," Ryo said. "You were out long enough. I can't wait any longer."

...

Torako came to with a jolt.

She was breathing heavily, drenched with so much sweat that she appeared to be walking through rain. She was on her knees, one hand pressed against the smooth red velvet wallpaper.

She looked ahead, down the hall, layered with plush carpet layered with gold fleur de lis on a Prussian blue background. Doors with numbers extended to the terminus of the hallway.

"Is this a hotel?" she said aloud. A shaky hand reached for a gun in her pocket, and she remembered pain, and looking up at Ryo Watanabe.

_I'm still on the floor at the koban._

"God dammit," Torako said. She bit her lip and sniffled. I'm dying, she thought. This whole thing, it was just a hallucination. A death dream. I wanted to apologize to Tomo, to make it up to her. To see Osaka again. I dreamed the whole damn thing. Son of a bitch!

This is sick, she thought, as she collapsed, sitting hard on the thick carpet. This is wrong. What kind of sick universe is this? She leaned her head against the wall and breathed heavily, trying to change her overwhelming hopelessness to anger. I'm still trying to fight it, she thought. Just let me die. Get this over with.

In front of her, a door with the number 307 swung open. Torako immediately aimed her gun at the door. Alekhine, wearing a black suit with blue pinstripes, walked into the hallway, drying his hands with a towel.

"I make my own compost," Alekhine said. "First I dig a hole-"

"Alekhine," Torako said, holstering her gun. "What are you doing?"

"Interdicting," Alekhine said, tossing the damp towel on the floor. "I got glue all over my hands." He faced Torako. He tried to soften his face into a look of concern, but his deranged eyes ruined the effect. "Why are you here?"

"I don't know," Torako said, as she staggered to her feet. She leaned against the wall for balance. "Something's been wrong since we started this mission."

"You came in through the southern gate," Alekhine said. "If you had gone through the main entrance, you'd be in the Kantei. But you went through the back entrance with harmful intent, and entered the grave world."

"So I'm dead," Torako said.

"Nah," Alekhine said, flicking a hand to dismiss her thought. "I mean, not yet. Everyone dies, but you aren't dying. I mean, not anymore so than anyone else who's living."

"Alekhine, I don't have time for your stupid rambling," Torako said. "Where's Tomo?"

"At the Kantei," Alekhine said, "where you aren't. I'm there, too."

Alekhine kicked the towel away. "Here's some Lacan," Alekhine said. "Sakaki has a dream about her ideal self, so it's not really herself. In this dream she opens a box, and finds darkness. The dream collapses, and she wakes up to find her real self." He stared at Torako.

"Okay," Torako said.

"She's going to open the box."

"So she's dreaming."

"No," Alekhine said, "she's awake. When you open that same box when you're awake, then you've just been killed by your psychosis. Don't let her open the box."

"Sakaki isn't going to open any damn box," Torako said. "I know crap when I hear it."

"A man's wife dies," Alekhine said. "So he travels into the underworld to take her back. The goddess of the underworld agrees to let her go back with him, but he must lead her to the surface, and he must not look back. He agrees to the terms, and proceeds to lead his wife back to the world. However, right at the exit, he becomes anxious. He looks back, and she disappears forever."

"The Orpheus legend," Torako said. "What about it?"

"The ancient Greeks strongly believed in fate," Alekhine said. "However, their concept of fate isn't the same as, say, Calvinistic predestination. You could defy your fate, but to defy it would lead to chaos. This is where the Greeks and I part; they fear chaos, but I don't mind it. So, I defy fate and make chaos."

"Alekhine, you are wasting my time," Torako said, flashing her teeth in a snarl. "Get me the hell out of here so I can help my people, understand?"

Alekhine rubbed the bridge of his nose. For the first time since she met him, he looked tired. "I literally cannot tell you what I want to tell you," Alekhine said. "The Kantei has some kind of chthonic defense system in use that I can't diffuse without resorting to massive and indiscriminate destruction."

Torako limped toward Alekhine and grabbed his silk tie, red and purple with abstract shapes. "Stop it," she growled. "Help me, okay? I'm begging you to help me."

"I'm trying," Alekhine said. "Go in one of these rooms."

Torako made to enter room 307, but Alekhine shut it with such violence that Torako jerked in surprise.

"Not that one!" he said. He cleared his throat. "Room 333, down the hall. It's unlocked. Do not enter any other room, got it? Sit by the phone and wait for a call. Do not leave the room until you get the phone call, and do not answer anyone who knocks on the door. This is the last time I can make sense."

He pulled away from Torako, leaving her holding his clip-on tie. He grabbed the doorknob of room 308, across the hall. "I'm going back to work. I have to farm the land. I aerate soil by pulling dead leaves down into my hole. I also have a mail-order catalog business that sells different mail-order catalogs, both current and defunct." He entered room 308, and shut the door behind him.

Torako sighed, and limped down the hall to room 333. Her dizziness had abated, and she was able to walk without leaning against the wall. She counted the doors, and passed room 325 when she realized she didn't tell Alekhine about Osaka's disappearance.

"Damn it," she said, looking behind her. Cold fear smashed into her body when she saw that the lights had gone out, and where she had been was covered with thick rumbling gloom, crawling toward her as if it was a living being. She could feel its breath.

"Shit," she said, as she quickened her pace. The lights, without warning, went out, and cold dampness rolled over her. She slapped her hands against a door, feeling the numbers. Where was I, she thought, feeling an eternal scream clawing its way up her throat. 325, right? Count, damn it.

She counted mentally, and felt the perspiration dotting her forehead freeze to ice crystals. The darkness moved through her like a flood of molasses, and Torako's body entered slow motion. It hurt to move, but she knew if she didn't, she'd be trapped forever.

She counted each door, feeling the numbers until she got to 333. Taking a deep breath that was more like a gasp, Torako grabbed the doorknob, twisted it, and plunged into the room, slamming the door behind her. She fell to the floor, gasping for breath.

The room was dark, but it was a normal, pedestrian darkness, and it was cool, but it was a refreshing cool. Torako got to her feet and felt for a light switch, flicking it on. Lamps with a dim golden glow lit up on both sides of the bed, perfectly made up with a gold colored bed sheet. She locked the door, feeling some small comfort when the deadbolt slid into its slot.

Torako staggered to the bathroom and flicked the light switch. She turned on the water and splashed her face, drying it with a towel when she had enough.

I'm still dying, she thought, tossing the towel on the black marble counter. I am on the floor of the koban. This is too ridiculous to be true. Maybe that blackness was my death. I have a spark left, she decided, as she shuffled toward the bed. She laid down on it, sinking in to the soft mattress. That's what these lamps are, they're the little life I have left in the darkness. They'll go out, and I'll be dead. I already feel sleepy.

Underneath the lamp, next to an ancient black rotary phone, was a television remote. She grabbed it and aimed it at the twenty inch CRT, and it flickered to life.

She put down the remote, watched a documentary about Asagi Ayase, and waited for her phone call.

...

Tomo checked the next office, showing poor gun safety by keeping her finger on the trigger. She already made one mistake when she accidentally shot a hole in a mop bucket. The water had deluged the carpet underneath while Tomo frantically put her finger to her lips and made "shhh!" sounds at it. It didn't shut up, so she had to run and hide.

She was finished hiding, and despite the mistake, kept her finger on the trigger. She was angry at Torako for disappearing on her, so trigger safety wasn't high on her list of concerns.

Stupid Torako, Tomo thought, a thought so familiar to her that it may as well be a mantra. Torako spaced out when Tomo was relaying to her the brilliant plan she had for finding Osaka. Tomo, thinking Torako had spotted someone down the hall, checked behind her. She turned around and Torako was gone.

What a trick to pull off, Tomo thought. She had been acting weird since they started this mission, with Torako falling over and clutching her stomach...

Wait a minute, Tomo thought, scratching the side of her head the tip of her gun. She didn't do that; she wanted to retreat. Abort the mission. Okay, this whole thing is weird then, and I'm tired of it.

Tomo carefully turned a corner into another hallway, also absence of people. Where'd all these hallways come from, Tomo thought. I don't remember so many from the blueprints. Am I in the right place?

The modus operandi was to check each door, but a wide walkway with lights bordering the entrance caught Tomo's attention. She stepped in, and entered the theatre.

Oh yeah, she thought. The private theatre. It was dark, despite some soft ambient light from the ceiling. Tomo couldn't help but coo to herself as she sat in the top row, leaning back into the leather theatre seats. A deserted canteen was in the back corner, next to the entrance. Tomo was about to pillage it for supplies, when she saw a silhouette of a person sitting near the front. Tomo gulped, and aimed her gun.

"Stay where you are," Tomo said, as she carefully descended the sloping, sticky walkway. The path felt too steep to Tomo, steeper than what would normally be in a theatre. "Put your hands where I can see them."

The silhouette turned around. "Oh, hi Tomo."

"Osaka?" Tomo said. She rolled her eyes and sighed. "You scared the crap out of me!" She put away her gun and entered the row where Osaka was sitting. Osaka waved her hand in greeting.

"Whatcha doing inside my head?" Osaka said. "Visiting?"

"What are you talking about?" Tomo said, sitting next to her. "Did you hear us raising you on your radio?"

"I kinda lost it somewhere," Osaka said. "When I went in those stairs."

"You lost it?" Tomo said. "Geez, we can't take you anywhere. Come on, let's go." Tomo stood up, but Osaka didn't budge.

Tomo carefully studied Osaka's face. She looked resigned, almost, like a fatalist living next to an active volcano. It was not a good fit for the obliviously cheerful Osaka, and it made Tomo's pulse race in apprehension.

"I can't leave my own brain, Tomo," Osaka said.

"What are you talking about?" Tomo said.

"This is the theatre of my mind. Where I watched all them movies about me being a spy and stuff. I thought I got out of it, but it was just an intermission."

Tomo remembered. It was months ago, when Osaka explained what it was like to not be in control of her own body, detailed to Tomo while she was recuperating from her wounds at the hands of the mad torturers.

"Osaka," Tomo said, sitting next to her. "You are not in your mind, okay? I mean, not literally."

"I'm not?" Osaka said. "Then whose mind is it?"

"You're not in anyone's mind!" Tomo said. "This is the Kantei's private theatre, remember? Where in the world did you get the idea this was inside your head?"

Osaka pointed at the empty space next to her. "This is where I kicked that seat out." Osaka then pointed to the screen, and Tomo saw a rip across it, exposing the stone wall behind it. "That's where I threw it at the screen. Those two guys aren't here for me to throw at them, though. I guess that was the weak spot they covered up."

"Osaka, there's no movie playing here!"

"I'm waiting for it to start."

Tomo checked behind her, making sure no one had come in while they were talking. The dark empty theatre amplified Tomo's apprehension, and she had to get out of there.

"Osaka, listen. We can get out, understand? But you got to trust me." Tomo took Osaka's hand and pressed it on her chest.

"Do you feel that?" Tomo said.

"Yeah."

"What is it?"

"It's your boob."

"No dummy," Tomo said, pressing Osaka's hand harder. "It's my heartbeat!"

"Oh. Oh!" Osaka said, breaking into a grin that greatly soothed Tomo. "I feel it. It's fast."

"That's because I'm scared," Tomo said. "Nothing's been right since we started this, and I want to get it over with. We're going after Oda Otomo, remember? I want you to help me. Can you try?"

"Sure I can Tomo," Osaka said. "But why did I have to feel your heartbeat to do it?"

"Geez, I don't know!" Tomo said, tossing Osaka's hand away. "I'm making this up as I go along, okay? I've never been in this situation before. I'm remembering stuff that didn't happen! It's the only thing I could think of."

Tomo stood up, and Osaka did as well. "Follow me," Tomo said.

"Yes sir," Osaka said, saluting.

Tomo led the way, marching up the steep incline toward the entrance of the theatre. Instead of being calmed that she was leaving this place, Tomo's apprehension grew. Is there anyone hiding, she thought, as she took out her gun. Why is this aisle so steep?

She approached the exit, and felt panic. She broke out in a hot sweat. I don't hear Osaka. Is she following me?

With one foot stepping into the hallway, Tomo looked behind her.


	33. Chapter 33

Osaka maneuvered her Daihatsu Hi-Jet van into the surf hut parking lot, parking it at the far north corner with the hope that Tomo would see it if she managed to escape. Osaka dearly wanted to drive her van straight into the Section One goons, soon to make their appearance, but the Ministry of Defense prohibited from taking the beat-em-up route. They tried to explain that it was politically suicidal, but Osaka was busy at the time thinking about the Super Famicom she got when she six, and how it spontaneously exploded while she was trying to save her game on _Super Aleste_. That _Super Aleste_ didn't have a save option probably had something to do with her Super Famicom's destruction. Suffice to say, she didn't remember the exact reason why she was told not to take on Section One.

However, she was going to help Tomo any way she could, so she painted her delivery van to advertise her taqueria. She hopped out of the van, the hem of her dress lifting up like a parachute. I'm sure Tomo knows how to read, Osaka thought. I wonder if I should have done something else, like maybe painted a picture of her in a hot air balloon flying above a bunch of frowning men.

Osaka grabbed the latch on the cargo door, pushing the door open with both hands. She grabbed the heating bag full of tacos, making sure to carefully place the strap around her neck before shutting the door. She glanced at her watch; I only got two minutes to get her out, she thought. I'm glad they don't have to be two minutes in a row.

She trotted into the surf shop, the stiff, salty air and chirping seagulls bringing banal authenticity to the Tiki-styled shop. The wooden structure had the intensely discolored and dried out look that comes with having untreated wood near the ocean. Osaka grabbed the door and entered.

The savory smell of tacos was as much a conversation stopper as a hated relative discussing his mysterious rash. The inhabitants of the surf shop, tanned and shirtless despite the stiff October breeze, immediately quieted down as they located the source of the delicious smell.

"Hey everybody," Osaka said, as she walked up to the counter. She dumped the heating bag on the counter and pulled out a bundle of tacos, much to the confusion of the cashier. "Here's twenty tacos, like ya ordered. That'll be fifteen-hundred yen, please."

The cashier eyed Osaka and her tasty presents like a murder of crows eyeing a stalking cat; distrustful and sullen. "I didn't order these," he said. "What's going on?"

"Um, well, this is Kujukuri Beach Surf Shop, ain't it?"

"Yeah."

Osaka eased into her most innocent smile. "Well, I'm at the right place! Someone ordered, and I delivered."

"Come on Gravy, pay the lady," a surfer wearing a shark tooth necklace said.

"Yeah," said surfer wearing a beard in desperate need of trimming. "Those smell good and we're hungry, got it?"

"Alright," Gravy said, digging into his pockets. "Just pay me back when you can."

The kid with the shark tooth necklace snorted. "I'm not paying you back."

"Well whoever ordered these, then!"

Osaka stuck her simpleminded smile between the argument. "Hey, can I use your phone real quick mister?"

"Go ahead," Gravy muttered, counting the money in his pocket. "I don't have enough. I'm going to the safe in the back. I'll be up in a little bit."

"Okay mister, I'm in no rush," Osaka said. Actually, I am in a rush. Why did I lie? Oh yeah, the phone.

While the surfers chatted about their impending free meal – free to them, anyway – Osaka rapidly punched in a number. Wait a minute, she thought. That's not the number I want. Am I doing automatic dialing? She imagined her forehead covered in automatic dialing buttons from a phone, with the name of the person they called penciled in next to them.

She imagined Sakaki trying to make a call on her forehead when the phone spoke. "Yeah," said a female with a growly tenor.

"Hey," Osaka said. "With whom am I speaking?"

"Osaka?"

"Really? I'm Osaka too! Maybe we're related?"

"Osaka, this is Torako. What's going on?"

"Torako!" Osaka said. "Well, that's a surprise. How are you?"

"Osaka, listen. I was told to expect a call. Is this it? Or did you dial by accident? I wouldn't be surprised."

"Where are you?"

"In a hotel," Torako said. "Room 333. Your crazy partner sent me here."

"Who?"

"Alekhine."

Confusion washed over Osaka like a river flooding its banks.

"How do you know him?"

"Osaka, this isn't the time to go loony on me. How do I get out of," and Torako trailed off.

"Torako?"

"I don't know why I'm doing this," she said, her voice weak like a faint signal of a distressed ship. "It's in my head."

"No, it's real," Osaka said, lowering her voice as Gravy came back with the money. "Please trust me. I think I know where you are. Listen, can you do something for me?"

"Yeah," Torako said.

"Call this number for me," Osaka said, spouting a phone number. A pencil scratching on paper filled her ear. "You're calling Tomo at the beach house."

"Beach house?" Torako said.

"Yeah, on Kujukuri beach."

"Osaka," Torako said. "That was months ago. Where the hell are you?"

Gravy, impatient, held the money in front of him and stared at Osaka.

"In a surf shop."

The sound of creaking bed springs jumped from the receiver. "I'll call this number," Torako said. "How do I get out of here?"

"I'm real sorry Torako, but I don't rightly know. I promise I'm going to help you, okay?"

"Yeah," Torako said, with no conviction. "I'll call the number now."

"Thanks!" Osaka said. She took the money from Gravy and carefully folded it with her free hand and placed it in her pocket. Osaka gave Torako the phone number so Torako would be occupied with something that wasn't her predicament. Maybe it'll calm her down, Osaka thought. I just hope she doesn't watch the TV, they show terrible shows. That documentary about spontaneous beard shaving was scary.

"Ma'am?" Gravy said.

"Sorry, I didn't watch that one," Osaka said, dialing Alekhine's number. Osaka hoped that he'd be able to get Torako out. Osaka finished her call just when Tomo ran in and demanded help in her escape.

...

"What a stupid show," Torako muttered.

The gold colored bed sheets were pulled over the bed so tightly that Torako's wallowing didn't even wrinkle them. She had the phone resting on her shoulder while she leaned back into the pillow, listening to the ring tone while watching a heavily fictionalized account of her and Tomo's tenure as detectives for the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force.

"Tiger! To the garage, we got to capture the mad terrorist before he blows up Osaka's taco stand!" Tomo said, wearing a suit with a long trench coat, red tie, and fedora. She pointed into the magnificent distance as she made her demand.

"Yes ma'am," the Torako on the TV screen said, wearing a black Gestapo hat, a Kato-style mask, a leather dog collar studded with spikes, and a black bustier with black garters, stockings, and high heels.

Torako couldn't help but sneer. I hope no one else is watching this, she thought.

They jumped into a Bugatti Veyron painted in police colors, its police lights flooding the garage with blue and red. Torako – or Tiger - drove while Tomo barked orders on the CB radio inside. Torako decided she looked good in a bustier, although that Nazi hat had to go.

Sometime in the middle of the chase, when the car was passing three hundred kilometers an hour, and Tomo stood up through the sunroof while aiming a bazooka, the phone clicked and taunted Torako with a dead signal.

"Hmm," Torako said, hanging up the phone. Timed cancel? I'll have to call again.

The real Tomo was in a precarious spot, being in the Kantei by herself, but Torako just couldn't bring herself to truly acknowledge it. The whiff of the unreal lingered heavily in this hotel, and it infected her thoughts and actions. That wasn't Osaka on the phone, she thought. Just a projection. Tomo's in no danger – well, none that I know of.

Torako angrily turned off the TV when Tiger and Tomo started ripping each other's clothes off, their lips locked in sloppy ecstasy. She sat up on the bed and dialed the number again. It won't hurt anything, she thought.

She was halfway through dialing the number when someone started knocking at the door.

It was a not a thunderous knocking, as if some beast was trying to smash the door from the hinges. It was three knocks, all of the same duration and volume, all having the quality of patience and an expectation that the door would open.

Torako put the phone back in its cradle and turned out the lamp light next to her bed, the only light on in the room. Darkness bombed the room, and the fear of suffocating rose up in Torako. So this is it, she thought. I'm finally going to die. Despite that, she got on all fours and crawled as quickly as she could without making noise, and perched herself next to the door. The knocking returned, exactly the same but louder, their polite but persistent quality echoing in the darkness. Torako pulled out her gun. I'm still fighting my death, she thought with a grim smirk. I can't do anything else.

Torako waited for the next knock, but instead, the doorknob twisted, and the door opened. I locked the door, Torako thought. I know I did.

Light had returned to the hallway that tried to absorb Torako, and it cast a long human shadow against the floor and the wall over the bed. The shadow provoked anger and fear in her, and she knew she had seen it before. The person who cast the shadow stood at the threshold. Torako, from her position, couldn't see who it was, and she didn't care. It was if the energy used to run her normal bodily functions was split between the hand holding the gun and the primitive mass in her head demanding that she fight back.

The shadow moved, and the lamp next to the bed turned on, morphing the shadow into non-human shapes. Torako didn't see the hand that turned on the wall switch, and she waited for the person to enter.

"Torako, I know you're there," a woman's voice said. "Do you promise not to shoot me if I come in?"

Torako didn't answer.

"I'm coming in," she said. The person walked into the room and flicked on the ceiling light. Torako didn't fire, because it was Asagi Ayase.

"Hey Torako, what are you doing on the floor?" Asagi said, bending down, her hands on her knees. She smiled at Asagi, an eyebrow arched in gentle mocking humor. She wore a low-cut shirt, and her long brown hair spilled onto her breasts, bright and mesmerizing like a full moon. Torako forced herself to look into Asagi's eyes.

"Torako, you aren't going to shoot me," Asagi said, standing up. "Stop playing super cop and put your gun away." Asagi shut the door to the room.

Torako got to her feet and put her gun into her holster. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting," Asagi said. "Does it matter? You're here, and I'm here too."

Torako rubbed her forehead, slow and precise, the heel of her palm covering an eye. "I don't know what's going on," Torako said. She sat down on the bed. "I'm supposed to wait for a phone call, but it hasn't come yet."

"Hmm, that's always painful," Asagi said, playfully tapping a finger on her chin. She walked over to Torako and stood over her. Asagi radiated confidence and an expectation that she was in charge. It was in the way she put her left hand on her hip and swayed, the other hanging free. Her head cocked to the left, and Asagi studied Torako with the amusement of a child watching puppies at play. "It's never pleasant to have to wait for a phone call, not knowing when it's finally going to come. It's maddening."

Torako looked toward the door, her eyes lowered. "You're dead," Torako said. "I remember... I spoke to you before. I've completely forgotten about that." She looked up at Asagi, her tiredness showing through her pale face. "This isn't real, anyway."

"Oh?" Asagi said, breaking into a kittenish smile. She straddled Torako's lap and put her arms over Torako's shoulders. Torako was too startled to react. Asagi's soft, full lips brushed Torako's ear.

"Is this real enough for you, Tiger?" Asagi said, her warm breath blowing a strand of Torako's hair. She moved her face, eyes lidded, close to Torako's face. Her lips gently brushed against Torako's lips. "What can be more real than this?" she whispered. Their lips touched, pressed together, and parted, Asagi's tongue playfully teasing. Torako moaned despite herself. She barely noticed how cold she felt, as if the warmth in her body was being pulled out of her.

Asagi broke the kiss and leaned back, laughing, full of life and vitality. Torako shivered.

Asagi stared into Torako's eyes. "We have a bed, Tiger. We have us. Why hold back?"

Torako used what strength she had to put her hands on Asagi's face. Asagi moaned and squirmed under Torako's touch.

"Asagi," Torako rasped. "Look at me."

Asagi, a smile playing on her lips, opened her eyes.

"My eyes are wide open," Torako said, and she twisted Asagi's head, snapping her neck.

Asagi's face didn't have time to register her fatal injury. It was frozen in the coy, sensual look of expectant ecstasy. Torako pushed the corpse to the floor and stood over it, shivering. She pulled out her gun, and placed her boot on the corpse's neck.

"You aren't Asagi," she said.

Asagi's head twisted toward Torako. The mouth curled into a sadistic grin, and a deep scar traveling from the upper lip to the nose appeared. The eyes flashed fiery hate.

"How did you know?" Ryo Watanabe said.

"That wasn't Asagi's shadow," Torako said. "It was yours. You were trying to keep me in this room."

Ryo's jaw moved like a rusted robot, while harsh, metallic laughter spilled out. "You're still here," he said. "This is your eternity. A long, pointless wait for a phone call that will never come, a wait that will extend into the heat death of the universe and beyond. You will be forever waiting. I hear Sisyphus is down the hall, you should-"

Ryo choked on his words as Torako smashed her boot into his neck. "I don't believe in the afterworld," Torako said. "I don't believe in an immortal soul. But I will admit, I've seen and experienced enough weird things in my life to accept this could be more than a hallucination." Torako aimed her gun at his head. "It doesn't matter if this is in my head, or if this is really happening. I'm going to kill you either way."

Torako pulled the trigger. The bullet entered Ryo's stunned face, pushing aside skull and brain to create a black and bloodless hole. Ryo's body was sucked into the wound, skin ripping, bones snapping, and organs bursting as they dived into the bullet hole. In less than five seconds, Ryo's body was no more. Warmth returned to Torako's body, filling her with life and vitality.

Torako holstered her gun. "I did get my phone call," she said, as she opened the door. "It was from Osaka." She stepped into the hall, and calmly walked toward the exit stairs.

...

"Osaka?" Tomo said.

She stood at the entrance to the dark theatre, her gun unholstered and ready to shoot. The lights were dimmer than Tomo remembered, and only the red EXIT sign at the bottom of the aisle was clearly seen.

"Osaka!" Tomo said. "This isn't funny! Stop hiding so we can get out of here!"

The only answer Tomo received was the blank silence of the theatre.

Tomo frantically looked around the expanse of the theatre, not daring to go any further. She knew her fear was irrational, but she obeyed it just the same. Next to the entrance were stairs leading to the projector. She took them, her gun held in front of her.

She made it to the projection room and opened fire on an empty coat rack she thought was a guard. She missed and hit the projector. It spun to life, giving the white screen images of life and depth. It was a black and white movie, so Tomo ignored it. She fiddled with a control panel next to the wall, flipping switches and turning knobs. The theater lit up, as bright as a dental assistant's smile.

Tomo put her hands to the projector window and looked for Osaka. No one was in the seats, or hiding in the floor.

"Dammit Osaka," Tomo said. "Where did you go?"

"Maverick here," Hiro said, buzzing over the communicator. "Police arrived at my building, and I had to flee the nest. I moved to point B. I no longer have camera access, but I'm still in the communication's grid."

"Maverick, this is Wildcat," Tomo said, peering down the projector room stairs, her gun drawn. "I've lost Tiger and the Big O. Have you heard anything from them?"

"Negative," Maverick said. "Also, Jaguar and Lynx have hit a snag, at the press room hall that leads to the Prime Minister's office. Could you lend them some assistance?"

"As soon as possible," Kazumi whispered. "I've been trying to hail you. Where are you and Torako?"

"Torako disappeared," Tomo said.

"How did you lose her?" Kazumi said, with Hiro adding, "Is she okay?"

"Let me think!" Tomo said. She was so intent on finding Osaka that even arresting Oda Otomo was shoved into her mental storage bin marked "not important". What was important, though, was that she did see Osaka, and despite some uncharacteristic melancholy on her part, she was at least safe. Maybe she just wandered off, Tomo thought. I mean, at least she isn't dead or captured, so-.

"Wildcat, there's no time to think," Hiro said. "They need your help."

"I'm going, okay? Sheesh, calm down." Tomo holstered her pistol and leapt down the stairs. She forgot to put the safety on, her mistake brilliantly unmasked by the tag team of gravity and velocity. The gun went off, shooting a whole through a movie poster advertising a cornucopia of mindless robotic violence.

"Wildcat, I hear gunfire," Maverick said. "Respond!"

"My bad," Tomo said, as she ran out of the theatre and down the hall.

...

Even as Torako marched down the plush hotel hall, the feeling of unreality, living from the moment she checked in, inflated like the gold market on Black Friday. The hall grew white, hissed like a punctured tire, and Torako's slippery focus wandered. Only focusing on the deep infernal red of the EXIT sign kept her from dissolving along with the hotel.

She gritted her teeth and refused to sway from her path. Even when living tar flowed over her, she did not lose sight of her goal. She gripped the steel bar of the exit door, pushed it, and fell through.

She tripped over a soft object lying across the entrance, and fell to the rubber mat covering the concrete. She breathed in sweet air, sweet to her despite the industrial and over filtered smell. Memories of the hotel broke and scattered, fading away like the end of a fireworks display.

Torako sat up and rubbed her head. Bits and pieces of what happened floated aimlessly through her memory. It feels like a dream, she thought, but I know I didn't fall asleep here.

She looked at the door, and saw, lying next to it, what she tripped over – Osaka.

"Osaka," Torako said, grabbing her shoulder and shaking it. Osaka was facing the door and not budging. "Osaka!"

Osaka rolled over and blinked sleepy eyes at Torako. "Oh hiya Torako, nice meeting you here."

"Are you okay?" Torako said, as Osaka rubbed her eyes with her fists. Osaka sat up and blinked at Torako.

"Hiding from people is hard work," Osaka said. "So I took a nap."

"In the stairwell?"

"Well, I only woke up here," Osaka said. "I went to sleep somewhere else." Osaka stood up and stretched. "I kinda lost my radio thingie too."

The stairwell was dark with low lighting and yellow reflective warning tape at the edge of each step. It was enough light for Osaka to see that Torako was pale, with eyelids drooping like branches heavy with snow.

"Torako? You don't look good. I mean you look good, but not now. Well, you have a very feminine face that is pretty, but it's all lopsided. Not that-"

"It's okay Osaka, I know what you're saying," Torako said. "I overestimated my strength. I'm exhausted." Torako pinched the bridge of her nose. "I was in the weirdest place, a hotel. I can't tell if it happened or not."

"Oh, is that from when I called you at the Kujukuri surf shop and had you call the beach house Tomo was at?"

Torako removed her hand and intensity returned to her eyes. Torako reached past Osaka and pushed open the service door she had just exited. Instead of the plush and opulent carpet of the hotel hallway, the gritty roof of the Kantei met her view, the Tokyo skyline not far behind.

Torako checked her watch; they started their mission less than five minutes ago.

"Osaka," Torako said, shutting the door. She cut short her sentence when she saw Osaka was sleeping again. Torako squatted down and shook Osaka's shoulder.

"Osaka, please get up," Torako said.

Osaka rolled over and blinked at Torako. "Oh, hiya Torako. Fancy meeting you here."

"Can you get up?" Torako said, putting her hands underneath her to push her in a sitting position. "Sorry to be pushy, but our mission isn't over."

"That's okay," Osaka said, stretching and yawning. "I got sleepy all of a sudden, and took a nap. I lost my communicator in the theatre."

"You were in the theatre here?" Torako said. "Scouting?"

"Nah, I dreamed it," Osaka said.

Torako sighed. "You lost your communicator in a dream. Great."

"Don't worry Torako, when I dream it again I'll just look for it."

"Not what I mean," Torako said. "Let's get back to work." She felt the back of her ear. "Looks like I lost mine."

"Uh oh, I bet you lost it at that hotel," Osaka said, following Torako down the stairs. "I called Alekhine to try to get you out of there, but I think the Kantei is messing with his Ego Controller. I'm glad you escaped."

Torako stopped, and Osaka bumped into her. Torako turned around and stared at Osaka. "Osaka," she said, her voice dry and colorless, like the bottom of a dry well, "what was that place? It doesn't feel real. Why was I there?"

"Oh, that's the Camus hotel," Osaka said. "I mean, Camus built it when he killed himself that car wreck. It's supposed to be some experiment on how to make life meaningful while performing some pointless and repetitive task for all eternity. I guess you could call it the existentialist version of purgatory."

"Sorry I asked," Torako said. "That doesn't tell me anything." Torako stared at Osaka. "It's hard to believe those words came from you, of all people. I mean, no offense, but how do you know that?"

"I had to go there when I went underground," Osaka said. "To get the heat off you and Tomo. I made phone calls to people's brains and made them think about me, but Zhang Ping saw you that time and started thinking about you instead. Broke my connection."

Despite her earlier insistence on continuing the mission, Torako took each step slowly, gripping the handrail as if she was going to be thrown into space at any minute. She had no doubts whatsoever that she was awake, and working in reality – or at least the reality she was used to. However, Osaka's explanations made Torako uneasy to the point of nausea. She was afraid to ask the many questions she had about what she just experienced, and knew anyway that the explanation wouldn't be helpful at all, assuming she'd understand them.

"I killed a man there," Torako said, softly, her words blending in with the droning of the ventilation system humming through the walls. "In cold blood. No remorse."

"Who'd ya kill, Torako?" Osaka said, just as softly.

"Ryo Watanabe," Torako said. "My attempted murderer. I had a glimpse I was still on the floor with him standing over me." Torako stopped at the exit door leading to the fifth floor and turned around, facing Osaka. The dim light of the stairwell showed a shaken and pale Torako, pushing herself to the limit of her ability to concentrate and act, ignoring the toil she was taking on her wounded body and wounded mind.

"Hey Torako," Osaka said, "remember when I said you don't look good a couple of seconds ago? Well, now you look bad. Like, doctor visit bad. With a shot and medicine and everything. Then you'd go home and lay in bed, and you'd be hungry but too sick to make something, so then you start thinking about calling someone to come over to cook for you, but you don't wanna bother nobody, so you lay in bed being hungry and wishing-"

"Hold on, Osaka," Torako said.

"Sorry."

Torako closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "If I never get to understand what happened to me, or what that place was, or why I was there, I'm okay with it. I dealt with it, it's over, time to move on. But killing Watanabe, even if he's already really dead, did a number on me. I feel like I failed a test. Like," Torako gestured, trying to pull the words she wanted from the stale air of the stairwell. "Like I'm going to get a bad grade in the future. I don't even feel bad about killing him like that. On the floor, defenseless."

"Hmm," Osaka said, closing her eyes in concentration and tapping a finger on her temple. "Well, do you feel bad about not feeling bad?"

Torako's grim expression slowly turned to a faint smile, amused by Osaka's question. "Well... yeah. I guess I do."

"Then you'll do okay, Torako," Osaka said. She patted Torako's shoulder, her arm straight in front of her. "Don't worry about it no more."

"I'll do my best," Torako said. She pulled out her pistol, checked the magazine, and snapped it back in with a satisfying click. "Let's get this crap over with."

...

Tomo made it to the executive wing on the fifth floor, just as eerily abandoned as the rest of the building. It was a neat trick, delaying the staff from coming on time – or at least Tomo hoped it was only a delay, and not something more sinister – but the emptiness of the expansive building was beginning to spook Tomo, especially after the disappearances of Torako and Osaka. Tomo was jogging at a steady pace, but she slowed down when voices traveled down the hall and intercepted her in front of the water fountain of the bathrooms for the visiting press.

"- officer of the law," came a tense and demanding voice. Kazumi, Tomo thought. "We have a warrant. You are interfering with police business!"

"There is no police business that requires these terrorist actions, officer," a male voice said. "Surrender or we will be forced to disarm you."

"The ambulance has arrived," Hiro said, his voice cutting in. "You guys have got to finish this quickly, understand? I'm going to have to abandon my nest soon."

"Hold on," Tomo said, and she took a sip from the water fountain. Gunfire erupted, and Tomo choked, spitting water on her shirt.

"Good work Kazumi," Tomo said. "Got water all over me."

"It's Lynx!" Kazumi hissed, her voice coming over the communicator. "What good are call signs if you don't use them? Where are you anyway?"

"Coming over," Tomo said. "Keep them distracted, I'm going to sneak into Oda's office."

"Negative Wildcat, don't you dare go alone," Kazumi said.

The buzzing of Sakaki's FAMAS raced through the hallway, punctuated by falling bits of ceiling.

"We're getting tired of that!" a man shouted. "You're just making it harder on yourself, princess! Tell your partner to put that popgun away, and we promise to only beat you up a little bit."

"I like that guy," Tomo said. No response came from her communicator, so Tomo grinned as she imagined Kazumi too furious to speak. "You two try to distract them. I'm going to crawl through the ceiling and drop in on Oda."

"Idiot!" Kazumi shouted, loud enough that Tomo could hear her from her position. "That's a stupid plan!"

"You insult me now?" a man said. "After our generous offer? Maybe we'll beat you up a lot, what do you think of that?"

"I didn't mean you!" Kazumi shouted, and gunfire erupted from the men's guns. Tomo took this opportunity to sneak into the bathroom. She hopped onto the sink, pushed away a ceiling tile, and crawled into the gap.

...

After what she judged to be a good distance crawled, Tomo would carefully lift a ceiling tile and peek at the floor below, making sure she wouldn't drop down on the guards. She managed to crawl past them, and entered the executive hall leading to the prime minister's office. She could see the sheet metal planted around the prime minister's office, baring entry to anything from air to rats to people. It was hermetically sealed from the Kantei, with its own ventilation, electrical, and emergency system. The only entrance was the door at the end of the executive hallway.

"Kazumi," Tomo whispered.

"Lynx dammit!"

"You and Jaguar cause a diversion right now! The biggest ever, got it?"

"Oh, you call her by her call sign, but not me?"

"Do it now!"

A minute passed. Gunfire, screaming, and explosions rocked the hallway, and Tomo yelped as she fell from her perch and crashed through the tile, landing onto the floor.

"Gah!" Tomo said. She staggered to her feet. She could hear the guards, just out of sight, barking gibberish at each other. Kazumi's shouting came over Tomo's communicator. Tomo turned around and rushed to the door, constructed of brilliantly lacquered Japanese maple, with a horned owl carved into the center. The office of the prime minister. Her adrenal glands pumped and she nearly laughed with glee. It's almost over!

"Shit!" Hiro shouted. "SAT is coming, a whole damn platoon. Police everywhere – I've been kicked out of the grid! Abort mission!"

"What?" Tomo said.

"I'm abandoning the nest. Get to the exit points! Now, now, now!"

Tomo jerked away from her communicator as it squealed static.

"Maverick? Jaguar? You guys?"

No answer. The gun battle continued, and another explosion rocked the Kantei. What are they doing? Tomo wondered. She pulled the communicator from behind her ear and stuffed it in her pocket. I bet they blocked us, she thought.

She looked straight ahead at the executive door. She clenched her fists and marched ahead. She pulled out her gun, grabbed the brass doorknob, twisted it, and entered.

...

Oda Otomo stood next to his massive oak desk and smiled warmly as Tomo entered.

"Ah, Ms. Takino," he said, holding out his hand. "It's so very good to see you. I'm glad you're still alive, although you'll have to stand trial for the murder of our dearly departed Torako. I believe in your innocence."

Tomo glared at Oda Otomo. Her gun was raised and pointed at his head. Oda showed no fear or even acknowledgement that his life was in Tomo's hands.

"Oda Otomo," Tomo said, her voice steady and cool. "You are under arrest for the murder of Asagi Ayase, the attempted murder of Torako von Wallenstein, and for treasonous acts against the government of Japan. I am a deputized officer of the law with an arrest warrant. Get on the ground. Now."

"No comment about my state of undress?" Oda said, holding his hands out in presentation. He was wearing white briefs and a t-shirt. "Some idiot filled my suit with super adhesive glue. That stuff burns the skin, you know. Not to mention nearly 200,000 yen down the drain. I know us upper echelon politicians are supposed to wear bespoke suits straight from Saville row, but I prefer the Italian designs myself. I favor Versace, specifically."

Tomo pulled back the hammer on her pistol.

"You know that's an automatic," Oda said. "You don't have to cock it like that. Speaking of cock-"

"Get on the ground!" Tomo shouted, shaking with fury. "Maybe what you see is having trouble getting through your syphilitic brain, but it's over! You're finished."

Oda raised his hands, trying to calm the blazing ball of fury in front of him. "I will get down, I promise," he said, "but I just want to say something to you. Something short."

"Say it!"

Oda cleared his throat. "'The dead wept thus, thou woman frail and weak/ and like remorse the worm shall gnaw thy cheek.'"

Tomo snorted. "What's that crap?" She said, and she saw Miruchi appear from the depths of her memory. She saw the sweat drenched terror of her face, the insane fear of her tearful eyes, as Stavrogin and Kirilov held her down. She saw a gleaming knife, held in her hand, as it slowly sliced through Miruchi's neck, her screams becoming rattling, hissing air escaping from her open, bloody throat.

"N-no," Tomo said. She staggered backwards, mouth open in a silent scream, eyes shut even though they couldn't block out the sight. She backed against the wall and gripped her head with both hands, her gun aimed carelessly at the ceiling. She screamed a denial.

"I didn't," she choked, and collapsed to her knees, eyes opened wide. She landed on all fours, and retched.

"I am truly sorry, Ms. Takino," Oda Otomo whispered. Tomo looked up at him through her teary eyes, her mouth open. "I never wanted to do that to you. I'm not going to get into how decadent and depraved Baudelaire is, but I can't have my country ruined because of a personal vendetta." He approached Tomo, his bottom lip trembling with compassion. Tears welled in his eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"Shut up!" Tomo shouted. "What did you do to me?"

"A signal planted by Stavrogin, to be used in an emergency. Even beyond the grave, he tortures you still. Disgusting!"

"Monster," Tomo said, as she huddled against the wall, sobbing.

Oda squatted down next to Tomo, staring at her face. "I love Japan," he said. "I love my people. I've cast myself to Hell, I know. But it's okay. I'll suffer for all eternity for the most noble of reasons, the uplifting of our nation and our people, and then the world."

He stood up, turned his back to Tomo, and walked to the window. "The police are here," he said. "Dear Ms. Takino, I wish Stavrogin and his lot had killed you when they broke into your apartment, like I ordered. It would have spared you your bleak existence and suffering. It would have sent a good message to Ms. Mihama, that she can't stand against me."

"Y-you," Tomo said, breaking through her sobs. "You ordered them to k-kill me?"

"After the failed beach house incident," Oda said. "I had to finish the job, you know. But it's okay, I'm prime minister now, and you'll be taken care of. I'm not using that as a euphemism for murder, but you'll be provided for." He sighed, and turned around. "You know, it's funny-"

He stopped, confusion on his face. Tomo was standing, her gun aimed at him.

"You killed my husband," Tomo said.

"Now Ms. Takino, that wasn't me."

"It was you!" Tomo shouted. "You killed Rico! You ordered them to kill me... but they killed him!"

Oda held up his hands. "Don't make this mistake," Oda said. "Please, think of Japan. I'm the only one that can lead us to greatness."

"You're under arrest," Tomo said. "I'm not going to ask you to get on the floor. I'm going to shoot your knees out."

Oda tensed, inadvertently ducking. "Ms. Takino, wait! There's no need for this! You can't expect to succeed in arresting the prime minister! They'll cut you down!"

"I don't care," Tomo said. She inhaled through her nose. "And what's that stupid thing on your desk?"

"What?"

"The glass thing," Tomo said, pointing at it with her gun.

"It's a wine decanter," Oda Otomo said. "Why is that important?"

"It's ugly," Tomo said. "It looks like it came from the seventies." She took aim, and shot at it.

It didn't break. "Crap, I'll try again," she said, but a loud thump arising from the floor broke her concentration. She looked, and saw Oda Otomo lying next to his desk.

"Um, Oda?" Tomo said. She tiptoed over, carefully peering at him like a cat attempting to steal dog food. She stared at his body without understanding, blind to what had happened. Her mind focused, and she saw blood poor out from between his eyes.

_I shot Oda Otomo in the head_.

"WHAT?" She shouted. "Oh crap!" She bent down and pushed Oda's head with the tip of her gun. However, she forgot to put the safety on. The gun went off, and blood, skull, and brain matter burst out.

Tomo screamed at the top of her lungs, and leapt away from the corpse. She didn't hear the door open behind her.

"Tomo!" Sakaki said, slamming the door shut. "What's wrong?"

"S-Sakaki!" Tomo said. "I thought you got out!"

"We're surrounded," Sakaki said. She stopped, and turned pale as she saw Oda Otomo's corpse.

"You shot Oda Otomo?"

"It was an accident!" Tomo said. "It wasn't my fault!"

"Where are his clothes?" Sakaki said.

The strong, confusing current of emotions rushed through Tomo's mind, and the least expected reaction came out – Tomo snickered.

"Why are you laughing?" Sakaki said. A giggle escaped, and Sakaki slammed both hands over her mouth.

"I'm not!" Tomo said, as tiny giggles broke from her. "Why are you laughing?"

"I wasn't laughing!" Sakaki said, and she chortled. She put her hand over her mouth, her entire body shaking with the effort to hold in her laughter.

"Oh yes you are!" Tomo said, and she broke into gales of laughter. Sakaki couldn't hold it in anymore, and she laughed, holding her sides. Tears came to Tomo's eyes as her and Sakaki's laughter bounced around the room, ignoring the sirens and shouting on the street below.

Finally finished, gasping for breath, Tomo and Sakaki looked at each other, and broke into laughter again. The laughter continued, until both were on the floor, holding their sides, spent and gasping for air.

Tomo looked at Sakaki, who was wiping tears out of her eyes. Despite her own smile and mirth stained face, Tomo said, "We're going to die, you know."

The door burst open again, this time with Kazumi striding into the room.

"Geez!" Tomo said, jumping at the sound. "We need to lock this thing."

"This is it," Kazumi said. "We're going to have to-" she stopped, her mouth agape. Tomo knew what she was looking at.

"Um, there's a perfectly good explanation for that, Kazumi."

Kazumi bent down over Oda Otomo's body. She palmed her forehead, and fought off hyperventilation.

"Tomo!" she shouted, infested with rage. She stomped toward Tomo. "Why the hell did you shoot him!"

"Why are you blaming me?"

"Who the hell else could it be?"

"It was an accident!" Tomo said.

"It's an accident?" Kazumi said, putting her impressive lungpower into each word. "You shot him twice, IN THE HEAD, and it's an accident?" Fury contorted Kazumi's face into red-hot death, and Tomo took a step back. "And then you take his clothes off?" Hysteria entered Kazumi's eyes.

"It was this stupid gun!" Tomo said, pulling out her Glock pistol. "It never worked right! Stupid thing!" Tomo was going to throw the gun on the floor, and thought better of it. She took aim at the wine decanter on the desk, and hurled the gun. It missed, bounced off the desk, and hit the floor. It fired a bullet into the window directly behind the desk, shattering it, sending its sharp ruins to the street below. A split second later, copious amounts of bullets tore into the room.

"Down!" Sakaki said, grabbing Kazumi and Tomo and pushing them against the floor. Deafening destruction poured into the office, as ceiling tiles ripped apart, glass shattered, wood splinters flying through the air, covering the three women with rubble from what used to be the executive office of the prime minister. The gunfire stopped, and the three slowly got up. They brushed the debris off the best they could. Kazumi took out her police radio, and reported Oda Otomo's death.

"Kazumi!" Tomo said. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"It's my duty," Kazumi muttered, putting up her radio. "I'm a police officer. I should never have let myself be talked into this."

Tomo had no smart comments to make, and Sakaki looked on in silence.

"We need to go downstairs," Kazumi said, her head down. Her voice was tiny and far away, drained of power and purpose. "Osaka and some American guy are trying to negotiate."

"Alekhine?" Tomo said. "Ugh, I'd hate to see those two try to hold a conversation-" She interrupted her thought with a scream.

Sakaki and Kazumi, in the process of exiting the office, turned toward Tomo with fear on their faces. "Tomo?" Sakaki said.

"It's that stupid thing!" Tomo said, pointing at the untouched wine decanter, standing alone on the bullet ridden remains of the desk. "Why won't it die?"

Kazumi groaned, throwing her hands in the air as a final symbol of defeat. She marched out of the exit, her fists clenched at her sides.

Tomo looked at Sakaki and shrugged. Sakaki nodded, and the two left the office – and Oda Otomo's corpse – behind.

...

Downstairs, on the ground floor, standing next to a barricade made of cigarette canisters, trashcans, and chairs, stood Torako.

"Torako!" Tomo said, and she jogged toward her. Miruchi's terrified last moments flashed into her mind, and she fought them off. She grabbed Torako's shoulder and squeezed. "What happened to you?"

"Long story," Torako said. "Tell you later."

"Torako?" Tomo said, biting her lip. "You look terrible."

"Yeah," Torako said. She nodded at Kazumi and Sakaki, ignoring the looks of concern they had. "You guys just missed the paramedics, going up to collect Oda Otomo's corpse."

"Torako, I can explain-"

"It's okay Tomo," Torako said. "I know it was an accident. I trust you."

Kazumi pointedly ignored Tomo as she leered at her.

"Osaka and Alekhine are out there," Torako continued, "either negotiating or trying to hold off SAT. Don't know how long we'll be here."

"Hold off SAT?" Kazumi said. "How are they going to do that?"

A canister at the top of the barricade rolled off, and bounced on the floor. Osaka stuck her head through, staring down at the group. "Hiya guys," Osaka said. "I have some bad news!"

"You look awful cheerful for some bad news, Osaka," Tomo said. Osaka slid down the barricade and landed on the floor. Tomo squeezed her shoulder too. "What happened to you in the theatre?"

"Oh, I woke up when Torako tripped over me. Listen, we're going to have to get arrested. That's about the only way we can get out with our lives."

"What, are they going to try and kill us?"

"Not them, but Section Nine."

"Oh great!" Tomo said, throwing her hands in the air. She shook her head. "That's just great. So they think we're terrorists?"

"Damn, Section Nine?" Torako said. "We can't handle them. Probably landing on the roof, like usual."

"Alekhine had to disappear himself, so he could recon with the Ministry of Defense and the US embassy. Um, I did all I could, but we have to get out before we get shot up and everything."

"Okay," Torako said. She sighed. "Well guys, we did our best. I'm responsible for everything. Point me out as the ring leader. Tell them I coerced you into it. It'll be easier for the rest of you."

"Wait," Kazumi said. She was staring the floor, her revolver at her side. "Tomo, I'm going to have to arrest you."

"Pfft, I'd like to see you try it!" Tomo said. "I knew you had it out for me!"

"Tomo," Torako said. "She's right."

"You said yourself it was an accident! You believe me, right?"

"Yeah," Torako said. "I do. But put yourself in her place. She has to do this."

Tomo fumed. "Oh, okay, sure, make me the pariah. After that self-sacrificing speech." She turned her back to Kazumi, sticking her hands behind her. "Yeah, go ahead and slap those cuffs on me. I don't care. I'm just a patsy, I know."

"Please," Kazumi said, putting the cuffs on Tomo's wrists. "Please don't make this hard for me."

Sakaki and Osaka broke down the barricade. Torako tried to remove a cigarette canister, but she dropped it. Tomo noticed her shaky, rubbery arms.

"Sorry," Torako said. "Can't help."

"Um, we have to walk outside with our hands up," Osaka said. "On the top of our heads, like we're sleeping standing up. Except Kazumi, since she's an actual police officer."

"Not for long," Kazumi said, as she brought up the rear. The five women marched toward the main entrance to the grand foyer, Osaka in front. They could hear the dull roar of people's voices, and the uncountable flashing police lights. "I'll get suspended, probably even fired."

"Ooh, poor Kazumi," Tomo said, walking in front of Kazumi, her voice as bitter as cyanide. "Losing her job, how terrible! But hey, what do I know, I'm an assassin headed for a lethal injection."

"Come on Tomo," Torako said.

"Oh, I should've known you'd be against me."

"Tomo," Sakaki said. "Please."

"You too, Sakaki?" Tomo said. An insult was ready, dripping with sarcasm, but Miruchi's open throat flashed in her memory again, and Tomo didn't respond.

...

They walked outside into a riotous roar.

A gauntlet of armored SAT made a path for the five, pushing back numerous screaming civilians. It was a human flood of hatred and anger, as accusations of assassins and traitors spilled over the women. Sakaki was hit with a partially empty milk bottle, splashing her face and hair. Sakaki remained stoic and persevered, marching through the battery of murderous insults with a noble decorum. Torako, Sakaki, and Kazumi kept their heads high and straight ahead, and their mouths shut. Osaka's eyes had glazed over, and her mouth parted in a goofy smile. She, like the others, still looked straight ahead and remained silent.

Not Tomo, though.

"Look at this big fat wall of idiots!" Tomo shouted, unapologetically belligerent as she stared into the mass of people. The crowd surged, and SAT pushed them back. "Yeah, you just try and get me you cowards! Look at you with the glasses, shouldn't you be exercising?"

"Die you slut!" the man shouted.

"Forever alone!" Tomo shouted. "You're going to be forever alone!"

The thin blue wall evolved into a wide circle, containing two police cars and a police van. Standing at the end of the gauntlet, insufferably smug and haughty, was chief Akiyama's successor, superintendent Hayakawa. Next to him were four uniformed police officers, pistols out.

"Arrest these women!" he commanded, and officers spilled out and clamped cuffs on Osaka, Sakaki, and Torako, to the cheering crowd. Torako glared directly at Hasegawa. He gave her a sideways glance, and approached Kazumi.

"Superintendent," Kazumi said. "Torako needs a doctor. She's suffering from exhaustion."

"Officer," Hayakawa said, flanked by two uniformed officers. "Your badge and gun, please."

Kazumi calmly handed him her badge and gun. The officer to the left of Hayakawa immediately grabbed Kazumi, twisted her around, and clamped cuffs on her.

"You're under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason, and accessory to murder."

"Superintendent," Kazumi said, calmly. "I have an arrest warrant."

"It's been revoked by the high court," Hayakawa said. "An illegal warrant. Judge Ikewaki is under arrest as well."

Hayakawa grabbed Kazumi's arm and led her to the police van. Torako, Sakaki, and Osaka were inside. Tomo was struggling against two police officers when she saw Hayakawa.

"Hey, Hayakawa," Tomo shouted. "You still hang out at children's playgrounds? You sicko!"

"Get her in the van, now!" he shouted. He led Kazumi to the entrance of the van, and leaned down, putting his mouth near her ear.

"The stuck-up entitled bitch finally gets what's coming to her," he said. He let her go with the command, "Take her away!"

"Superintendent," an officer said. "The reporters are ready for you."

"Thanks," Hayakawa said. He tightened his tie, smoothed back his hair, and readied a smile as he walked toward the group of eager and fawning reporters.

...

The doors closed behind Kazumi, and she took her seat. Hiro was against the driver's wall, suave and smooth except for the black eye and bloody nose.

"Well, I'm sorry there had to be another officer taking the fall for this," he said, addressing Kazumi. Kazumi nodded and sat near the door, next to Sakaki.

"Bunch of animals out there," Tomo said. The van turned on its siren and lights, and the crowd parted. Tomo sat next to the door, her bench shared by Torako and Osaka. Across from her sat Kazumi, Sakaki, and Hiro.

"Aren't we missing someone?" Hiro said.

"Oh, Alekhine sneaked away all quiet," Osaka said. "Going to get us some help." She scanned the group with a loud smile. "I've never been arrested before!"

"Torako, you need to lie down," Tomo said, staring into her face. She scooted back. "Make room for her, Osaka."

"I'm okay," Torako said, her voice rusty and overused like an abandoned iron pot.

"No you aren't," Tomo said. "We know you're tougher than everyone here combined. You have nothing to prove to us! Just lie down, okay?"

Torako sighed, giving the appearance of deflation. She looked small and frail. "I've had enough," she said. She slowly laid her head down in Tomo's lap. Tomo tried to put her hand in her hair, but the cuffs prevented that. Sakaki sat straight, prim and proper, while Hiro slouched against the van wall, a faint smile on his lips as he watched Torako's face. Kazumi stared at the floor.

"So," Hiro said, sitting up. "Anyone want to tell me what happened inside the Kantei?"

"No!" Kazumi and Tomo said. Torako shivered.

The police van sped on to the Chiyoda police headquarters.


	34. Chapter 34

Tomo, Torako, Osaka, Sakaki, Hiro, and Kazumi were processed from civilians to prisoners in record time. This was not so much a testament to the speed and efficiency of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police so much as it was the effects of a strongly worded memo from the higher-ups, demanding them to get this spectacle over with. The higher-ups wanted results, not fairness, and mere procedure wasn't going to interfere with what the media dubbed the Seditious Six getting what was coming to them.

What was coming to them now, though, were interrogations designed to break wills, destroy spirits, and generally sow weeds in the field of their comradeship.

"Oh she spilled it all," one of the interrogators said to Tomo. Dressed in a green jumpsuit a size too big for her, Tomo sat in the barren interrogation room and suffered through threats, insults, and lies hoisted upon her by the two men hired to break her apart and laugh at the remains.

Tomo shrugged. "Anything Kazumi says is a lie."

"Oh?" said a shabbily dressed interrogator with a noticeable hump in his back. Tomo named him Ratty. "She had some pretty entertaining things to say to us. Apparently the five of you women had some sort of sex commune going on."

"Oh you wish," Tomo said, snorting. "I know you don't get any action from home, but you really shouldn't imagine this stuff in your spare time. It causes acne and poor posture."

"I didn't imagine anything," Ratty said, his face scrunching into anger at the knock against his unfortunate posture. "She made a written confession. Killing Mr. Otomo was supposed to be the climax of some depraved sex act. Of course, that's how it goes when you get women together under one roof for a period of time. They're naturally bisexual."

"Oh come on!"

"Hey, it's not me saying this," Ratty said, holding his hands up in apology. "It's science."

The interrogations of the other four ladies were carried out in the same way. Kazumi did not hide her righteous outrage, Torako sneered and laced her responses with contempt, and Osaka baffled the interrogators with her non sequitur answers. Sakaki alone refused to speak or respond to her tormentors – she remained stony and stared at the table.

The six were kept in separate cells, with Hiro being moved to the men's wing of the holding facility. His interrogators used a different method of interrogation, involving punches, kicks, slaps and stomps. He rarely left the interrogation room without being carried by two guards, hoisting him under his arms.

There was another attack on the group's spirits, and this one came from a source where they should've only expected help. The lawyer assigned to them discussed plea bargaining and methods on reducing their sentences. He told Tomo that he was going to shorten the waiting time for her execution, "so you don't have to suffer long." He didn't bother to see her again. The group's protests of innocence – Oda Otomo's death was an accident, they had legal authority to invade the Kantei due to an arrest warrant and the writ ex nihilo – were swatted aside by grunts and nods, expertly used by the lawyer to steer the discussion into their guilty plea, and how that would make the sentence lighter.

During one such visit, he refused Torako's request to pass notes to her detained friends. Torako decided that she had enough.

"Get out," Torako said, standing up from her chair.

"Pardon?" The lawyer said, backing away.

"Out," Torako said, grabbing him by the back of his starched white collar and pushing him to the steel door, sealing off the conference room from the outside hall. "Open the door," she shouted to the guard peering in through the thick window. "I'm firing my lawyer."

"You can't fire me!" The lawyer said with a high-pitched squeak. "I was appointed!"

The door opened, and Torako pushed him through. He was caught by to uniformed officers before he had the chance to fall to the floor.

"Get us a new lawyer," Torako said. "One who'll actually listen this time."

The women had not seen each other since being processed three days ago.

On the fourth morning, Tomo prepared to eat her meal of cold rice, bread, and two sardines. She broke her chopsticks, said her prayer, and sang the Kimigayo, the Japanese national anthem, loudly and off-key. This was designed for maximum annoyance, and she was yelled at by the guards. They didn't forcibly stop her, though.

Before she had the chance to finish, her cell opened to the portly and red-faced guard she named Sausage.

"Hey, I asked for one of you this morning, but they ignored me," Tomo said.

"Congrats boss, you're being moved to the Crocus," Sausage said, holding open the door. "Please come along."

Tomo pushed herself up from her futon and stretched. "That old thing," she said, exiting her cell. Tomo, holding out her hands, let herself be manacled by a female guard. Tomo moved along the ill-lighted corridor as Sausage escorted her to the prisoner transfer exit. "Well, I guess I should be grateful for getting into a minimum security prison, but I don't. It's full of rich entitled idiots."

"It's going to be full of your new lawyer soon," Sausage said. "Some junior member from a prestigious law firm decided to take ya'lls case. I guess he wants to make a name for himself."

The announcement of a new lawyer did nothing to brighten Tomo's spirits. She figured they'd go through a whole colony of lawyers before whatever tribunal was assigned to judge them would say 'enough'. "What, getting us life instead of the death penalty? Yeah, that'll make his name all right."

A smile crept onto Sausage's red and sweaty face. "I don't know what possessed you ladies to do what you did, but I wish you luck," Sausage said, as he reached the end of the corridor. "You don't seem so bad to me, boss."

"You don't seem so bad either," Tomo said, patting Sausage on his paunch. Sausage frowned, and opened the door to the outside. Tomo blinked at the sunlight as several armed guards stood next to a police wagon. "Enter please," Sausage said. Tomo entered, and took her seat.

She was alone on the bumpy and dark trip, so she took that as a sign that she was still going to be separated from her friends. In the dark and with no one to see her, Tomo bent over and clutched her stomach, breathing carefully so she wouldn't start retching. It was a clammy fear that swirled inside her, that ate at her heart and made all food taste sickly bland. She knew she had lost weight. She could tell by how taut her face had looked in the mirror.

Her feelings were a vortex of stabbing emotions, especially fear; fear for her separated friends and for their collective future. But it was fear mixed with guilt, for no how hard she tried to forgot, she remembered killing Miruchi. Each time she tried to convince herself that she was innocent of her murder, the guilt would gnaw harder.

And then there was anger. She was angry that her body would betray her this way. Despite her freewheeling nature, full of spritely mischievousness and lust for living, it was her secret self that was in control of her body. She chose to be happy and have fun, and except for rare outside influences, that's how she acted. She was angry that her body rebelled against the dictates of her hidden heart, and would make her feel so scared and sick.

She calmed down a little and sat up, controlling her breathing, letting it in and out in long drawls. The vehicle slowed down, and Tomo put on her mask, ready to show to the outside world the self she wanted them to see. The footsteps of the driver and guard circled around the van, unlocking the double doors and opening them. She hopped out before they could ask her.

This time, the outside world was clicking cameras, intrusive microphones, and nosy reporters.

"Oh come on!" Tomo shouted.

Questions came at her from all sides as the guards flanking her escorted her to the prisoner entrance. The sounds smeared into each other like oily dishwater. Tomo blurted out, "Ask my lawyer! Stop infringing on my rights! Nothing but savages in this town!" The guard to her left squeezed her arm and growled at her to shut up. The reporters roared, their questions becoming accusations and insults, as the two guards escorted her toward the prisoner entrance.

The doors shut behind her and the growling crowd of reporters became a muffled mewling, as their intrusive shouts were repelled by the double steel doors. Tomo could tell that the Crocus was nicer than the dingy Chiyoda district holding cell she had lived in for the past four days. It still had the typical industrial appearance the insides of sixties era federal buildings had, but the floors were waxed, and the white cinder walls were polished to a reflective glow. Tomo felt better, but not by much; it was still prison.

She was processed, her manacles removed, and given the orange jumpsuit minimum security prisoners wore. She was able to dress herself without the intrusive leering of male guards, which she had to put up with when first processed into the Chiyoda detention center. She wondered how the others fared. I'm sure they held it together, Tomo thought as she zipped up the front of her jumpsuit. She worried the most about Sakaki, whom she couldn't see handling incarceration very well. Maybe her scary appearance kept her from being harassed, Tomo thought.

The door swung open and a female guard stood at the entrance. "This way," she said. "We're taking you to the main conference room."

...

Tomo, escorted into the conference room, gasped in joy when she saw her friends.

"Hey!" Tomo said, smiling at those assembled, waving both hands in the air. Osaka waved from her position behind the table. "Hi Tomo, I'm in jail!" she said.

"Well don't be so happy about it," Tomo said. Giggling, Osaka hopped out of her chair and made her way to Tomo, hugging her. Tomo laughed. "Okay, okay," she said, hugging back. "Good to see you too."

Tomo followed Osaka to the folding table set up for the accused. Sakaki stood straight and erect, proving that all those best posture certificates awarded to her in primary school were well deserved. She blushed cotton candy pink and bowed to Tomo. "I'm glad you're okay," Sakaki said, her lips turning into a glad smile. Tomo bowed. "You too Sakaki!" she said.

Torako was leaning back in her chair, her feet propped on the table. She looked up at the approaching Tomo and nodded. "Hey," she said. "They treat you okay?"

"No, there's nothing but perverts working that jail," Tomo said. She ignored the premonition of embarrassment – an embarrassment she could feel even before she committed the act – and leaned down and hugged Torako. "Yeah," Torako whispered into her ear as she hugged her back. "Me too."

"So," Tomo said, taking her seat next to Torako. "Where's Hiro and that other girl, what's-her-name?"

"It's Kazumi," Kazumi said, as she entered the conference room. Hiro was behind her, smiling suave at the ladies present. He had a cut over his eye and walked with a limp.

"You know Kazumi, I don't think I've ever seen you anything but mad," Tomo said. "Why is that?"

Torako watched Hiro limp toward a seat. He had an old black bruise over his eye, faded now over time. Torako leaned forward as Tomo and Kazumi escalated their argument. "What the hell did they do to you?" she said.

Hiro smiled and shrugged. "Smacked me around. Nothing major."

"You need medical attention," Torako said. "I don't like that limp. What were the names of the people who did this?"

"Torako, lay off," Hiro said. "I appreciate it, believe me, but I can handle it myself. No offense, but, well, this is something only I can do. I have my pride, you know."

Torako got the meaning of his words, and shook her head. "That stupid male pride."

"Hey, it's all I got."

"You're selling yourself short if you think that's all you got," Torako said. "But I'll respect your wishes."

The conference room door, thick metal with a double-layered glass window, swung open. The guard, over the distant sound of high heels tapping the tile floor, announced that their lawyer had arrived.

"Eh? I thought our lawyer was a he," Kazumi said.

"Maybe he likes high heels," Osaka said.

Tomo had prepared a barb, and nearly rubbed her hands in impatient glee as she waited for the moment to launch it. Their new lawyer entered, wearing a slick Prussian blue business suit with gold trim, and marched toward the table with a casual and self-assured stride. She had finished running her fingers through her long amber hair before entering.

Tomo's barb died in her throat, and blood rushed away from her face and left it pale and barren. Sakaki's eyes widened, and Osaka gasped with joy as their lawyer stood at the end of the table like a queen receiving her coronation.

"Hello, I'm Koyomi Mizuhara," Yomi said, with a subtle bow. "I've taken on your case."

Yomi asked permission to sit at the table, which was granted by a "yes please" from Kazumi and a grunt of approval from Torako. Torako's eyes wandered toward Tomo, and did a double take.

"Are you okay?" Torako said. "You look sick."

"Leave me alone," Tomo murmured, and Torako raised a questioning eyebrow.

Yomi had grown into a professional and imperious woman, with piercing eyes peering from her custom-made eyewear. They perfectly fit her facial structure, and added an intellectual cast to her world-weary demeanor. Yomi exuded an experience and knowledge surprising for someone her age, making her appear more mature than her years.

She placed her leather briefcase on the table and popped it open, the brass locks polished and shiny enough to pretend they were gold.

"Yomi," Osaka said, happiness driving her giddy voice. "It's good to see you again!"

Yomi moved her attention from her papers to Osaka, and nodded. "Thank you, Ms. Kasuga," she said, as if speaking to the office postman handing her a package. She moved her light, frivolous glance to Sakaki, who was warm with a sweet smile. "Ms. Sakaki," Yomi said in the same tone and the same nod. She moved her glance toward Tomo, who was staring at the table. "Ms. Takino," Yomi said. She returned her attention to her briefcase and pulled out a folder, laying it flat on the table.

"Pardon me," Kazumi said, "but do you three know each other?"

"We attended the same high school," Yomi said, as she shut her briefcase and placed it on the floor next to her. Sakaki's smile faded after Yomi's greeting, and now she too was looking at the table. Osaka merely looked confused. Torako's mind dug deep, and retrieved the memory from where she had seen Yomi before. She was in that picture Tomo tried to hide, Torako thought, and she stared at Yomi in suspicion, her paranoia rising like mercury on an angry summer day. What is she up to?

"Before we start," Torako said, leaning over the table and fixing Yomi with a laser stare, "we want to fight all of the charges on the basis that we had the legal right to arrest the prime minister. Also, his death was an accident, and there was absolutely no treasonous plot what so ever. If you aren't going to defend us to the full, you might as well move on."

"Don't worry Ms. Wallenstein," Yomi said. "I did my research, and I fully believe I can dismiss all charges of treason. The majority of the anger against you is mass hysteria whipped up by a sensationalist media. I can handle them."

"Good," Torako said.

"However," Yomi said, "while I will fight the best I can to clear Ms. Takino of assassination charges, the fact remains that she killed the Prime Minister accidentally. I will fight my hardest to defend your actions," she said, facing Tomo, "but we have to face facts. You will go to jail, at the very least, with a charge of first degree manslaughter."

Tomo was aware that she was being spoken to, and she barely lifted her head to face Yomi. Yomi was looking at her the way she looked at all of her clients – professional interest, and nothing more. There was no hint of their past relationship, no nostalgia for old times, not even anger at Tomo for her malicious decision committed years ago at Chiyo's father's beach house. It was Yomi only seeing another client, a person that was a part of her job and nothing more.

"Do your best," Tomo said, after clearing her throat.

"One other thing, before you brief us," Torako said. "There was a guard there – I shot him in the stomach. Is he okay?"

"He was released from the hospital this morning," Yomi said. "I managed to get an attempted murder charged dropped, pointing out that you only fired once, and aimed not to kill. However, we will have to fight an assault charge in court."

"Fair enough," Torako said.

Yomi then questioned the group on the charges against them. Some questions were aimed at Tomo, and Tomo answered them without being fully aware of what she was saying. It was if she was left on autopilot while her consciousness went to the corner and clutched her knees to her chest, trying to disappear. Torako and Kazumi contributed the most, with Torako being extremely careful to leave out her Camus hotel experience. She would interrupt Osaka when she chimed in, trying to cut her off before she inserted any weirdness into the retelling of their arrest attempt. Torako knew it was obvious, but Ms. Mizuhara acted like she didn't notice. Hiro seemed disinterested, and stared at the dreary ceiling; Torako tried not to take this as being induced by his injuries, but she had a hard time ignoring her hunch.

After Torako and Kazumi detailed the invasion of the Kantei (with some inconvenient details left out), and their reasons for doing it, Yomi threw a curveball none of the expected.

"Who is the seventh member?"

Torako remained impassive, staring at Yomi in mute indifference. Tomo didn't hear the question, and Hiro was still lost in his reverie. Kazumi, however, showed ignorance of how to wear a poker face, and Osaka cocked her head and said, "Ummm..."

Yomi put down her pen. She showed the slightest emotion, just a tiny movement of her head that only cast shadows over her eyes. While she didn't look angry, she certainly looked "concerned".

"If I am going to defend you tooth and nail to the High Court," Yomi said, "you must tell me everything, and I mean everything. It doesn't matter how embarrassing it is. I have never broken client confidentiality in the hundred odd cases I've taken, and I'm not going to start. Now, please tell me all – including things you don't think are important."

"Well," Osaka said, moving her eyes around as she searched for the most careful words, "I'm on the Ministry of Defense payroll, you know."

"I know," Yomi said. "If some national secrets are involved, I'll have to get a signed order of classification from the Ministry. I can deal with that."

"Well, it's not really that," Osaka said. "There was a seventh person, and he got away."

"Thank you for being honest with me."

"He's American."

Yomi nodded. "Then I'll have to deal with the American embassy. I knew I'd have a lot of work in front of me when I took this case."

"I mean, he works for the American embassy."

"Well, that makes it a little tricky," Yomi said, "but..." Yomi stopped, and stared at Osaka. In a husky voice, she said, "in what capacity?"

"Um... he's like... a spy?"

With a trembling hand, Yomi took the left stem of her eyeglasses and pulled them off. She rested her arms on the table and rotated her glasses by the stem, staring at them. After four rotations, she said, "This does not look good."

"Oh, it's okay," Osaka said, "he worked for our Ministry of Defense, too."

Yomi stopped twirling her glasses. She put them on slowly, and swallowed. "I'm going to have to talk to someone in the Ministry of Defense, then," Yomi said. "We have to find a way to approach this without it looking like an actual coup d'état supported by the Ministry of Defense and the Americans. If we can't do this, then we've lost before we even begin."

Osaka wrote a list of names and contacts on Yomi's legal pad. Yomi reassured them that, except for Hiro, they were quartered together in the commons, and were allowed free access to all news about the outside world. She also told Hiro that he was allowed to visit his comrades during normal operating hours, but under strict watch. She thanked them for their patience, said she would contact them tomorrow evening, and excused herself.

As the guards came to escort the prisoners out, Torako called out to Yomi.

"Ms. Mizuhara," Torako said. Tomo snapped her head around to see what was going to happen, but she was led out of the conference room. The guards escorting Torako paused as Yomi approached her.

"Hiro needs a full physical checkup," Torako said. "I think he was tortured."

"Mr. Tezuka did look bad to me," Yomi said, nodding. "I'll get a doctor immediately."

"I also need a neurologist, and maybe a mental health specialist," Torako said, noticing Yomi trying to show concern, and failing. "I think I had some sort of brain seizure in the Kantei. I saw... I hallucinated."

"Absolutely," Yomi said, nodding. "I'll get you help at once."

I know who you are, Torako thought. I don't know what happened between you and Tomo, but if you're doing this to get back at her...

"Anything else?"

"No," Torako said. She nodded. "Thanks for your help."

...

After being briefed by the guards, shown their cells, and given a list of rules they would have to follow, the group headed toward the heavily policed commons to prowl through newspapers and news channels to find what terrible things were being said about them.

Surprisingly, there were sympathetic voices.

A retired SDF general spoke highly of Sakaki's character, giving an anecdote of how she had saved his granddaughter's Boxer from bloat, and refused to receive payment. He ended the interview by saying that if Sakaki had a reason to participate in the attack on the Kantei, it was a good reason and he believed her wholeheartedly.

"Hey, that's great Sakaki!" Tomo sat, forgetting Sakaki's personal space issues and patting her on the back. "At least one of us has a supporter!"

The officers at the Kojimachi district police station spoke highly of Kazumi, calling her the utmost professional, and praised Torako for her skill and talent. All expressed joy at finding out that she was still alive.

"They didn't say anything about me," Tomo grumbled.

"Good," Torako said. "It'd make us look bad."

Tomo had to admit that was true.

The rest of the articles and reports, however, were slanted against the group and freely slung around the terms treason and assassination. They had already been judged.

Curfew came, and the five were escorted to their cells. Hiro had already been directed toward the male wing of the Crocus. Tomo grabbed the cell that had Torako with it, and stuck her tongue out at Kazumi as she was partnered with Osaka. Sakaki, do to her height, was given her own cell with a larger bed.

As the steel door shut and locked, Tomo, lying on the bottom bunk, whispered, "Torako?"

"Yeah?"

"What the hell was that?"

Torako immediately knew what she meant – the temporal repetition at the Kantei. The bedsprings creaked as Torako sat on her side. "Don't know," she said. "I bumped into Alekhine. He seemed to expect it."

"Really? What did he say?"

"He called it a chthonic defense system," she said.

"Ch-tho-n-ic," Tomo said. "What does that mean?"

"Greek," Torako said. "Referring to the underworld."

"You mean like... hell?"

"Who knows what he meant," Torako said. She wasn't even sure if she had bumped into him, but she wasn't going to bring that up right now. "We're going to have a hard time parsing our actions to Ms. Mizuhara, since they overlap."

"Heh," Tomo said, as her heart burned at the mention of Yomi. "Something weird and awesome happened to us, and you're just worried about getting our stories straight." Tomo pushed up the bottom of Torako's bunk with her foot, making a new hill that raised Torako's waist.

"Now I know why you wanted the bottom bunk," Torako said.

"How do we know it won't happen again?" Tomo said. "I mean, we could be right here, talking, and then all of a sudden we're back in the park on that bench, waiting to go inside."

"Won't happen again," Torako said. "It was related to something specific in that building."

"Eh? How do you know?"

"Just do," Torako said. "It's a hunch."

"Ha!" Tomo said. "Torako, believing a hunch? Torako, who always called my hunches unbelievable? I bet you feel like a big fat hypocrite now! Instead of just, you know, big and fat."

"Yeah, yeah," Torako said. "Let's just concentrate on what can help us get out of here, okay?"

"An armed invasion," Tomo said.

"On what we can do," Torako said. "Lawyer-wise. Let's try to remember what happened to us, and figure out what we should use."

Tomo pushed her feet into Torako's bunk, lifting Torako's stomach into the air. "A lot overlaps," Tomo said. "Some are stronger. I think I got shot, I know Sakaki... got killed. Osaka disappeared, and you disappeared too."

"Yeah, we'll have to figure what to leave in and leave out," Torako said. "Let's go to bed and worry about it later."

"Pfft, you aren't getting out of it this easy," Tomo said. "Why did you disappear on me?"

Torako inhaled. "It's a long story. I'll tell you tomorrow."

Tomo started kicking Torako's bunk, alternating her target.

"Knock it off," Torako said, as various parts of her body bounced from Tomo's torpedoing.

"Not until you tell me what happened."

"Tomorrow," Torako said. "Stop it or I'll beat the crap out of you."

"Ah ha, you don't have the energy to even get out of bed!"

Torako hopped out of bed, landing on the floor silent and catlike. Tomo squealed and giggled as Torako pushed her head into the pillow, punching her in the back and shoulders.

"Ow, Torako," Tomo said, her voice muffled in uncomfortable synthetic fibers. "You're hurting me!"

"Good," Torako said. She climbed up to her own bunk and tightened the sheets around her. She prepared for another obnoxious barrage of missile strikes from below.

"Shh, someone's coming," Tomo said.

The footsteps got louder, and a guard shined a flashlight through the thick square spy-window set at the top of their door. The beam of light probed faces and beds, looking for any activity or movement. The beam flicked off, but the two knew the guard was still there. They hadn't heard her move away.

Torako decided not to worry about it, and quickly fell asleep.

"Psst, Torako," Tomo said next to her ear. She was tapping Torako's cheek with her finger. "Torako!"

"Dammit," Torako muttered, as she swatted Tomo's hand away. "What?"

"She's gone," Tomo said, getting back into her bunk. "We can talk now."

"I was asleep."

"I know, that's why I had to wake you up," Tomo said. "Now hurry up and tell me what happened when you disappeared."

Torako sighed. Tomo mocked her sigh.

"Alright," Torako said, deciding that Tomo would keep her up all night until she told the story. "I'll tell it. But it's the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me."

"I'll listen," Tomo said.

Torako told her story, making sure to quote exactly what Alekhine told her, and her conversation with Osaka over the phone and in the stairwell. She mentioned Asagi, but made sure to leave out the part where Asagi/Watanabe tried to seduce her. She finished, and Tomo was quiet for so long that Torako wondered if she had fallen asleep.

Torako herself was about to drift off again when Tomo said, "That's the most insane thing I ever heard, and I'm friends with Osaka."

"Yeah," Torako said. "Our lawyer sent me a mental health specialist to check me out. He said I was exhausted and dehydrated, and hallucinated as a result."

"Makes sense to me," Tomo said. "Except for you bumping into Osaka on the stairwell, and she acting like she knew what was going on."

"That bothers me the most," Torako said. "If it's true, then the most likely explanation I can think of is that we were blasted with some hallucinogen before we even started, and given subliminal suggestions. Those clip on communicators we had – Sakaki's friend could've been working against us."

"I think it was built on top of the gateway to Hell, or maybe a rip in the universe," Tomo said.

"You would," Torako said. "But if it was just me, then what about Osaka? If it's just Osaka being Osaka, well, that's fine, but if she was lying to mess with me-"

"Osaka doesn't lie," Tomo said, her voice sharp and resonant like a steel sword.

"Sorry," Torako said.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you," Tomo said. "I guess we need to interview Osaka tomorrow, huh?"

"Might as well," Torako said. "Listen, we can't tell Ms. Mizuhara any of this, understand? It would put us in the madhouse for life."

"Yeah," Tomo said, her stomach once again twisting at the mention of Yomi. "Maybe I want that, you know. Instead of a firing squad."

"They don't do firing squads in Japan," Torako said.

"The chair," Tomo said.

"That either. You're not going to be executed, understand?"

Tomo thrashed around for dramatic effect, her hands smacking the bed sheets. "But what if we lose, Torako? What if I get the death penalty?"

"Then I'll break you out of prison and we'll go into hiding," Torako said. "And I mean that. You aren't going to die as long as I'm alive."

Tomo let the implications of what Torako said sink into her, letting it warm her fear into something more palatable. It was an impossible and absurd promise, but Tomo knew Torako would carry it out to the end.

"Torako... thank you."

"Yeah," Torako said.

"That doesn't mean you get to sleep with me, though."

"Good," Torako said, turning over on her stomach. "Hate it when my friends disappoint me."

"Pervert!" Tomo said, as she kicked Torako's mattress with both feet.

...

Earlier, Yomi exited the Crocus and approached the pearlescent opal Maybach 62-S waiting for her. The back windows were tinted as dark as unmined coal, but she knew who owned it. The door automatically opened, and Yomi sunk into the leather seat, putting her briefcase in the holder behind the chauffer's seat.

"Hi Yomi," Chiyo said, as she watched Yomi adjust her seat. The door closed automatically, and the chauffer drove on. Chiyo raised the privacy partition. "How did it go?"

"It went well," Yomi said, forcing herself to face Chiyo out of politeness. She felt as if she was talking to a different person than the pigtailed child genius of over ten years ago. That child was now wearing the body of a slender adult woman that could easily model for the great French fashion houses, and using a mind whose stratagems and plans would make Sun Tzu gape in wonder. She might as well be talking to a different person altogether. "They suspect nothing, although I believe Ms. Torako doesn't trust me."

"She naturally paranoid and very suspicious," Chiyo said. "You'll have to be careful around her."

"I'm always careful," Yomi said. "I have names of Ms. Kasuga's contacts in the Ministry of Defense. I'll work on them next."

"Great," Chiyo said. "Thank you so much for helping me with this project."

Yomi stared blankly at the sweet-smiling woman. You forced me into this, Yomi thought, and yet you dare pretend to be gracious with me. And you know that I know.

"You're welcome," Yomi said. "Anything I can do to help."

Chiyo nodded. They had nothing more to discuss, and both stared out of their respective windows, watching the street scenes pass by as both imagined the other wasn't there.


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N:** I fixed some terrible typos and errors, mostly in Tomo's story to Torako. I apologize for letting that happen.

...

The guards shouted "Get up," and used their clubs to rap at the steel doors entombing the prisoners. This was the command for the inmates to get out of bed and stand at attention. If a prisoner hadn't done that by the time the guard opened the steel door – and time would vary depending on the specific guard's mood or attitude toward the prisoner – then she would be yanked out of bed and forced to run laps around the prison yard.

Torako had difficulty getting up in the morning, and her brain damage wasn't excuse enough for the guards.

"There's no special treatment here," the guard told them. "Get up, or get out."

The 'get out' referred to being kicked back into the mainstream Japanese penitentiary system, notorious for a cruelty not usually found in free societies. Most of the people in the Crocus were there because they were well-behaved and well-connected, and none were stupid enough to throw away the relatively light treatment they received.

Tomo always woke up early, and she would use that time to reel Torako out of her fathomless slumber. She would hop out of bed and poke Torako's cheek.

"Torako, get up," Tomo whispered, her voice bright and full of naïve hope for the future, like a college student in the Peace Corps. "It's wakey-wakey time."

Sometimes Tomo had to pull Torako out of bed, hoisting her arm over her shoulder and walking her around their cell in an attempt to get Torako's synapses sparking.

"Talk to me Torako," Tomo said, staring at Torako's sleep-ridden face. "Wake up. I don't want you getting sent to real prison."

"Are in prison," Torako mumbled, her words bypassing her still-sleeping speech filter. "There is no band..."

Torako would walk on her own when she approached a level of manageable consciousness. One time, Torako didn't wake up to Tomo's satisfaction, and she had to push Torako's body to full standing attention – in front of the guard.

"I don't want to see you doing that again," the guard said.

"Yes ma'am, it won't happen again," Tomo said.

After the warden recited a proverb designed to cause the prisoners to contemplate the deranged and broken morality that led them to their fallen state, the inmates would change into their exercise clothes and meet in the yards at 620 for physical training. Failure to be present during role call resulted in cancellation of recreation time for the offender. Exercises were short but vigorous, and heavily regimented by the megaphone wielding PT officer.

"A fit body encourages a fit mind!" she shouted, as the inmates performed their jumping jacks. "This will allow you to be fully productive members of society when you're released. Arm rolls, now!"

"Yeah yeah," Tomo said, trying to speak through lips pressed shut. "What a load of crap, huh Kazumi?"

Kazumi focused intently on the exercise.

After the exercises were over, the inmates hit the showers, a room as soulless and severe as a Soviet era housing complex. Several of the inmates were overheard remarking, in wavering tones marked with sighs and longing, that a long soak in a tub was what they missed most.

The five made sure to shower together, to better ward off any unwanted attention or possible attacks from the other inmates. Sakaki and Torako stood on the outside of the group, both wearing their best don't-mess-with-me look. Tomo maneuvered Osaka next to Torako for backup, a duty Osaka wasn't aware she had been drafted for. Kazumi showered next to Sakaki, and Tomo stood in the center. Torako was the most tense during their showering, not for fear of glory hunting inmates deciding to take initiative and punish the group for their treasonous actions, but because she knew Tomo would do something stupid.

The first day the group showered together, Tomo made sure to saddle up next to Torako and treat her with an insufferably smug and proud look. Torako tried to ignore her, but it was like a trailer park ignoring a tornado.

"Tomo," Torako said, fixing her with a tired smirk. "What?"

"My pubic hair is better groomed than yours," Tomo said.

"You have lost your damn mind," Torako said, a painful sneer cutting across her mouth. "Go back to your spot."

"Just saying," Tomo said. As she turned toward her section of the shower, Torako saw the scars crisscrossing down Tomo's back, permanent reminders of her beating at the hands of Rico's murderers. Torako's heart hurt at seeing that, but she wasn't going to say anything to Tomo about it in front of the others. I'm glad she's not self-conscious or ashamed about it, Torako thought. The hateful scar below Tomo's navel, the remnant of Oda Otomo's sharp-edged katana, was a barely noticeable strip. Sakaki had done an excellent job of repairing that wound.

Other times, Tomo seemed to go out of her way to pick fights.

"Hey Kazumi!" Tomo said during one session, turning to Kazumi as she shampooed her hair. Tomo was wearing a beard and mustache made out of soap suds.

"What, Takino?"

"Are those real?" Tomo said, as she poked a probing finger into Kazumi's left breast.

Kazumi snarled and punched Tomo in the jaw. Tomo staggered backwards and bumped into Osaka.

"Tag, you're it!" Osaka said, pushing Tomo back into Kazumi. "Ew!" Osaka said, as shampoo slid into her mouth. She spat repeatedly into the drain.

Torako moved to grab Tomo, looping her arms under Tomo's shoulders. Sakaki put a firm hand on Kazumi's shoulder.

"Stop it," Torako hissed into Tomo's ear. "We don't need to attract attention."

"She hit me!" Tomo said.

"You deserved it!" Kazumi said.

"So, is Kazumi it, or is Tomo it?" Osaka said. "And where's the base?"

"Tomo," Torako said, mindful of the eyes on them, "please help us out here, okay?"

"Oh okay," Tomo said. "I guess Kazumi can't take a joke. And who allowed men in here?" Tomo turned her head as much as she could, and faked shock when she saw Torako. "Oh hi Torako, I didn't know that was you."

"Funny," Torako said from the side of her mouth.

Tomo didn't provoke any more fights, but she did find time to make showering a terrifying and obnoxious experience. Most of the women coped with this behavior in different ways; Torako always had a ready retort when Tomo accused her of being a man, and Kazumi met Tomo's insults with gritted silence – she only got angry if Tomo touched her, and Tomo had not yet made that mistake again. Sakaki, however, was always uncomfortable when Tomo leered at her breasts, and her comments about them made it worse.

One morning, when a perverted and sneaky laugh leaked out of the madly grinning Tomo, Sakaki covered her breasts with both arms and glared at her.

"No," she said.

"N-no?" Tomo said, as fear made her sweat. "You mean... no?"

"No," Sakaki said.

Tomo made a lopsided grin and scratched the back of her head. "Sorry Sakaki, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." She forced a laugh, her tenseness making it almost sound like a whimper.

"Thank you," Sakaki said. Tomo didn't bother her again.

Tomo didn't bother Osaka during showering. Osaka didn't remove the simple chain necklace holding her and her deceased husband's wedding rings while showering. She hadn't talked to Tomo about him since that day in her old taqueira, but Tomo could see Osaka was still keeping his memory close. Of course, when showering was done, Osaka was a fair target again. Out of sight, out of mind.

...

Breakfast followed, with all inmates required to stand at attention behind their chairs before sitting down to eat. Roll call wasn't necessary; the prisoners always knew which latecomer was preventing them from eating, and retribution would invariably follow. No one was ever late. The five had their own table, as the rest of the prisoners refused to talk to them or even make eye contact.

"One of you must trade cells with me," Kazumi said to Tomo and Torako, while looking at Torako as she spoke. "Osaka talks in her sleep, and it's giving me nightmares."

"Yeah, I knew that," Tomo said, as she mixed her fried egg with her white rice. "That's why I didn't want her as my cell mate. I got enough sleepless nights in college listening to the crazy that comes from her when she's sleeping."

"I didn't know that," Torako said. "What sort of things does she say?"

"Don't make me talk about them," Kazumi said. "I can't stand another night dreaming about Osaka asking me if I knew blue was her favorite color."

Torako glanced at Tomo, who was scarfing down her bowl of rice, egg, and whatever else she mixed into it. "I'm not going to make Tomo share a cell with Osaka, so I'll swap with you," Torako said. "Osaka will need to help me get up in the morning though."

Tomo snorted a laugh.

"I'll put in a transfer request today," Torako said.

"Yeah!" Tomo said, as she slammed her bowl down. "You know what that means, Kazumi! You and me are going to be cellmates!" Tomo grinned, rice and runny egg oozing out of her mouth in one long, yellow glob. Wet rice stuck to her chin as the partially mixed egg yolk plopped onto the table.

Kazumi's face petrified. "I'll... I think I'll take my chances with Osaka. It's really not so bad, I'll get used to it," Kazumi said. Tomo bent over the table sucked up her mushy food. Kazumi spasmed in disgust, and looked away.

"Was I supposed to be sittin' here listening to all this talk," Osaka said, looking curiously at the three, "or did ya'll forget I was here?"

...

Sakaki had dreams too.

She had her own clinic again, bigger and nicer than the old one. Plants and sunlight were in abundance throughout her clinic, giving it the feel of a conservatory.

She was widely admired by her neighbors, and the children in the neighborhood would always run up to speak to her, smiles and sunshine in abundance as she counseled and encouraged them with her wisdom. Animals loved her, even wild animals such as squirrels and crows. Her employees looked up to her, and she was always invited to hang out with them after work.

Eventually – and the timing on this event always changed with each dream – she would come across a beautiful cedar box, its location changed with each new dream. It could be in her personal office, or on the magazine table in the waiting room. Sometimes it was even outside, sitting on the rough cobblestone walkway, guarded with roses and lilacs. The cube had delicate arabesque designs carved on the box, complex and geometrically perfect. It was a mesmerizing artifact made by a master craftsman from centuries past – maybe even from the Abbasid Caliphate, Sakaki thought, trolling deep into the memory of her art history studies.

But more tempting than the box itself was what may be inside it. She would gently push the hidden lever (she intuitively knew where it was) and the lid would open, leaving only a fingernail's width between lid and box. Sakaki would lift the lid and...

It varied. If she was inside the office, she would hear mewing and feel something soft apply affectionate pressure against her ankle. She would look down and see a familiar young Iriomote cat looking up at her.

"Maya!" Sakaki said, as she reached down to pet her beloved cat. But he's been dead for years, she thought, and that was when she realized she was dreaming. Waking up from that ending was always painful – she was never able to reach down fast enough to pet Maya.

Outside, when lifting the lid, she would get bowled over by a shaggy Great Pyrenees. Mr. Tadakichi, surely over sixteen years old if he was still alive, would sit at attention and stare, looking as fit as he was when she was in high school. His presence would remind her that she was dreaming, and Sakaki would wake up.

Sometimes, though, she would open the box and peer inside. It was full of nothing; howling, piteous nothing, a nothing so suffocating that Sakaki would gasp awake in her bed, clutching her chest as sweat slid down her forehead. She never remembered opening the box when she awoke. She only remembered her perfect veterinarian clinic, still waiting for her in the dream world. She told no one about her dreams – she didn't see the point. They were so ordinary, even boring, and they already had enough on their minds to listen to a silly fantasy.

...

Work started immediately after breakfast, at 730. Torako and Osaka worked in the kitchen, where Osaka's experience in the culinary arts shined brightly. She was appointed the head cook, although she was advised to stop adding so much heat to the food.

Tomo and Kazumi worked laundry. Guards roving in the laundry room enforced a strict policy of continual work, so Tomo never had a proper chance to antagonize Kazumi. Kazumi hoped that she knew better anyway.

Sakaki worked in the farm, a mere twenty acres meant to feed a prison of nearly four hundred men and women. She proved herself capable of manual labor. The cold and detestable winter was finally giving way to a light and airy spring, and it made for pleasant working weather.

Sakaki missed her old garden. She missed the smells that went along with cultivating vegetables like leeks and potatoes, and she missed the joy she felt when she saw the outcome of her careful planning and conscientious work. The farm resurrected those simple feelings of satisfaction from hard work, and Sakaki approached working the farm with a gusto the other inmates thought was weird, if not outright sick. The guards were impressed with her willingness to perform hard labor, and so made sure the other inmates working with her didn't give her a hard time.

Most work ended at 1600. Recreation association would last until 2145, when all inmates were locked in their cells. Hiro and the crew were allowed to visit each other on Wednesdays. Hiro gave them all the option of not wasting an hour of their rec time to meet with him, as he figured only Torako really wanted to see him. However, the ladies never opted out. No matter what, they were a family now, and they all had to see this through together.

...

Sometimes, Tomo was distant.

Kazumi noticed it in the laundry room. Her goofy smirk would disappear into a tight lipped frown, and her sparkling eyes would dull like a television screen just powered off.

She would lapse into silence in the shower, staring at the tile wall while slowly washing herself. Or she would eat her breakfast in silence before running off to work.

At night, when they went to their cells, Torako would try to breach the subject of her melancholy behavior. Tomo, however, would shrug it off with a "just tired, going to bed," killing the conversation before it even started.

Then the next day, Tomo would be back to normal.

"What was with you yesterday?" Torako said, during breakfast.

"Oh, it was nothing, nothing! Don't even worry about it!" Tomo said, rolling up a newspaper to assault Osaka.

The subtle arts of interpersonal relationships were never Torako's strong point, and she would struggle over how to bring Tomo out of her occasional funk. Even just giving her comfort would have been enough for Torako, but she knew Tomo would react in anger. Tomo could smell pity like Monsieur Chien could smell a criminal. Talking to her was, so far, counterproductive, as Tomo's curt answers discouraged further questionings. But Torako was going to talk to her anyway.

One evening, when Torako and Tomo were laying in their respective bunks during the tail end of rec time – Torako half-heartedly reading a military history magazine while Tomo moped below – Torako let out a sigh and just decided to get it over with. She rolled the magazine and stuck it between the concrete wall and the metal frame of her bed before lowering herself to the floor below. She sat at the end of Tomo's bunk, watching Tomo as she faced the wall, her eyes open and looking at whatever was playing in her mind.

"I haven't been able to talk to you all day," Torako said.

"Said hello this morning," Tomo said, still looking at the wall.

"Not much of a talk," Torako said. "I want to know what's bothering you."

"Just tired," Tomo said. "Good night."

Torako crossed her legs and gazed at Tomo as she lay on her side, staring at the wall.

"Wall can't be that interesting," Torako said. "How about you look at me for a moment? At least I'll know you're listening."

"How about you get out of my bunk and stop crowding me?" Tomo said. "Good night."

Torako pulled in her legs and sat cross-legged, just in case Tomo decided to get punchy. Why do I keep going out of my way to help this brat, Torako thought. She didn't expect an answer, of course – but if there was a balance sheet that kept track of their friendship, Tomo owed far more than she put in.

"Tomo, I try not to pry into your private problems. But I hate seeing you like this, and if there's any way I can help you-"

Torako stifled a groan. What the hell am I doing? Torako thought. She had her own vast armory of private shames and torments, and those weren't going to be released if she could help it. I'm a private person, Torako thought. What right do I have trying to tear Tomo's secrets out of her?

"Sorry, Tomo," Torako said. "Maybe Osaka... never mind."

The lights blinked in and out as an alarm like a sick buzzard bounced throughout the cells. Several guards shouted at complaining inmates as they sulked back to their cells. It was time for sleep, regardless if it was needed or not. A guard came by Tomo and Torako's cell and shut their door without comment. The lights stopped blinking before finally powering down. The only light available was the sick pale light somewhere in the corridor. It crept into the tiny windows of the cell doors, giving just enough light to keep the inmates from bumping into things while not being a nuisance to those wanting sleep.

Torako still sat at the foot of Tomo's bed. The fog was rolling in, the thick and soupy mess she was going to have to deal with for the rest of her life. She kept enough thought alive so she would be aware of where she was. She didn't need confusion when trying to crawl to the top bunk.

But she didn't move. She felt time in spurts, stopping, starting, and restarting. She wasn't sure how long she had been there. Maybe she fell asleep.

Tomo rustled her sheets, bringing Torako back to the now. "Torako, get off my porch or I'll cut you."

Torako smiled. "I see you have," Torako said, her voice thick like potters clay. She hacked at the fog. "See you have the lingo," Torako said. "Down pat."

Tomo sat up. "Torako, talk to me." Tomo's voice had the urgency of a horse leaning into the final stretch, its jockey too terrified to look behind at the pack. "Do those mental exercises Sakaki taught you, okay?"

"It's okay," Torako said. "Just tired. Always like this when tired."

"Let's talk a bit," Tomo said. "I hate it when you're like this."

"Sure," Torako said. "But it's okay."

Tomo sighed. "Torako, I want to tell you what's bothering me. Everything. About me and Yomi- and something else."

Torako swallowed. "Don't be afraid of me. Was Yomi – is it like what happened to Sakaki? And that other woman that was part of all this... Ms. Mihama?"

"Chiyo, yeah," Tomo said. "Torako... I don't want you to hate me."

"Never going to happen," Torako said. She wanted to make a joke about already hating Tomo anyway, but that was a difference between her and Tomo – well, between Tomo and the rest of the world. Tomo always went for the joke option even when it was grossly inappropriate. "I think I have an idea of what happened."

"Really?"

"Back in the force. I thought about doing some research on you and your friends – the ones I knew about anyway. Sakaki and Osaka. But I didn't do it. It'd be too intrusive. Wrong, you know."

Tomo shifted in the darkness. "Well, what do you think happened?"

"Knowing you, some kind of prank gone awry," Torako said. "Someone got hurt. The fallout broke up friendships. That's the sort of vague idea I had."

Tomo sighed. "That's actually pretty close to it. Torako, I want to tell you – Osaka already knew about it, and she didn't once try to make me feel bad about it. I'm a little braver now – I know you won't push me away."

"Never," Torako said.

"This was at the end of our third year of college. Osaka had already sprung her disappearing act." Tomo swallowed. "Here goes."

...

It was summer vacation and Tomo, Yomi, Sakaki, Kagura and Chiyo met at Chiyo's parents' beach house. Kagura had only a week before she had to leave. Tomo looked stunning in her two piece bathing suit, her long tan legs glimmering in the sunlight, her shapely breasts making all the men heartsick. Yomi's jealousy of Tomo's sexiness was obvious to everyone, as the pasty and overweight-

...

"Oh come on," Torako said.

"Hey, I'm telling this story," Tomo said. "You weren't there, so you couldn't possibly know how hot I was looking. Or maybe the thought of me wearing a skimpy bathing suit is too much for your perverted mind, hmm?"

"I've seen you naked," Torako said. "More than I've ever wanted to in this lifetime, to be honest."

"Oh yeah? Well... shut up."

...

Tomo woke up extra early and sneaked her way onto the deck overlooking the beach. She carefully prodded her toes at the edge of the boards, trying to find the one- there.

The loose board. She grabbed the hammer she hid in the potted plant at the entrance, and tip toed back to the loose board. Tomo squatted and carefully pulled out the nails. No need for tetanus shots, she thought.

She worked quietly and quickly, prying out the nails, pulling up boards, and placing them back on the slats. After admiring her handiwork with a malicious chuckle, Tomo put the hammer and nails in the potted plant and snuck back to the mass of her sleeping friends, taking her spot between Sakaki and Kagura. Yomi won't even know what hit her, Tomo thought. I just need to lead her out there somehow.

...

"So what was your beef with Yomi?" Torako said.

"It was stupid girl stuff," Tomo said. "She got my goat earlier – some college stud on the beach I was eyeing struck up a conversation with her while ignoring me. I didn't like how uppity she was acting, so I was going to get back at her."

"By engineering an accident," Torako said.

"A prank, Torako," Tomo said. "I wasn't trying to hurt her. Anyway, I noticed the loose board earlier, and Chiyo saying something about being careful not to step on them. They were damaged from the salt spray or something. Her parents were going to put in a completely new deck later that summer. The thought of someone falling through it like a trap door entered my mind, and, well... there's my prank."

"How high was the deck?"

"Oh..." Tomo let out a strangled giggle. "About twenty-five feet?" Tomo rushed on, imagining Torako's eyes emitting just the tiniest gleam in the dark. "I mean, I jumped off the deck a couple of times that day, just to test it, you know. It's a scary drop, but I didn't break or strain anything."

"Well," Torako said, inspecting her words like a fisherman inspects his catch. "That really is some stupid girl stuff."

"Yeah," Tomo said, the word escaping like a air from a busted tire. "I'll uh... I'll skip to the... the part."

...

A scream pierced through the red haze of sunrise. Chiyo was the first to wake up.

"Girls!" Chiyo said, grabbing Yomi's shoulder as she sat up. A yell full of pain and fear vibrated the hearts of the girls, and Sakaki was the first to grasp what was happening.

"Kagura," she said, and slung the cover away from her and raced outside. Yomi jumped up and Chiyo followed, already crying.

"What's wrong! What's wrong! Is Kagura okay! What-"

"Come on," Yomi said, grabbing Chiyo's hand as she led her outside. No one noticed Tomo still sitting on her pallet. She tried to swallow as she stood, her body churning in apprehension. She followed the racing Yomi and the crying Chiyo down to the beach below.

In the rocky sand below the balcony, lying amidst broken planks, lay Kagura, her right leg twisted away from her body. A hateful gash split open her flesh at the shin, exposing shattered bone and muscle. Thick tears streamed from Kagura's face as she let out another scream, her arms over her face as she gripped her head. Blood was on her black-and-yellow one piece swim suit. Sakaki sat on the sand next to her, still in her night slip, and inspected the wound.

Chiyo gasped, burst into tears, and ran toward Kagura.

"Kagura!" She shouted. "Oh no! No no no-"

"I-I'm calling an ambulance!" Tomo said, and she raced upstairs.

...

"Kagura," Torako said, and Tomo rustled her sheets. "Was she the dark skinned girl in those pictures? In Osaka's apartment?"

"Yeah," Tomo said. "It's clicking now, isn't it?"

"Oh, Tomo," Torako said. "I remember now. She was going to represent Japan at the summer Olympics. Swimming. She was in contention to bring home gold. It was all over the news." Torako thought back to the picture she had seen in Osaka's apartment. Three young college women, smiling and happy, standing before Kyoto castle dressed in the rich hues of autumn. That's where I'd seen her before, Torako thought. All those years before.

"She got up early to practice," Tomo said. "She went out on the balcony to do some stretching exercises."

...

"Kagura," Sakaki said, her voice full of grit, "I have to set your leg."

"Do it!" Kagura said. Yomi pulled Chiyo away and was tightly holding the sobbing girl.

"I'm sorry," Sakaki said, as she moved Kagura's leg into position. Kagura screamed in pain, and Chiyo shuddered, sobbing into Yomi's chest.

"On the count of three," Sakaki said. Perspiration ran down Kagura's face as she clenched her teeth, her hands like claws grabbing fistfuls of sand as she prepared for the pain.

Sakaki put her hands on Kagura's leg, one holding her calf while the other grabbed her ankle. Kagura whimpered, her body shaking in anticipation. "One," Sakaki said, and she twisted.

Kagura's eyes shot open, wide but seeing nothing, and a rattling wind escaped from her mouth, a sound that couldn't have possibly have come from inside her. Sakaki's jaw dropped as Kagura closed her eyes and lost consciousness.

"What happened?" Yomi said, stepping toward Kagura's body. "Did she pass out?"

"I don't know," Sakaki said, shaking. A thump was heard behind them. Chiyo had fainted.

...

"Sakaki set the leg right," Tomo said. "But there were other injuries she didn't know Kagura had. When Sakaki set her leg... it ripped Kagura's tendons to shreds. The pain made her pass out. It was severe enough... she was crippled, Torako. I guess it's healed now, but she'll never get her strength back."

Torako stared at the blackness in front of her, the pale blue light shining from the corridor outside only bright enough to announce its presence.

"This feels wrong," Tomo said, and Torako looked up, trying to see Tomo's face. The bedsprings creaked. "I'm giddy, Torako!"

"Keep your voice down," Torako said.

"Sorry," Tomo said. "I'm all feverish." She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She rubbed her eyes with her palms. "The ambulance came and took Kagura away, and we were questioned by the police. Of course the hammer and nails were found."

Tomo's breathing was heavy now, and Torako was afraid Tomo would hyperventilate.

"I could tell how Yomi was looking at me, that she knew I was responsible. So I blamed her. She had a little tryst with that college guy behind the toolshed that night, where the hammer was kept. I told the cops I saw her sneaking around there that night... Chiyo didn't know what was going on, but she remembered seeing Yomi there too, and backed me up. They arrested Yomi, charged her with criminal mischief."

"Tomo..."

"Don't," Tomo said, shaking her head. "Please. Chiyo was crying in rage. Seeing Kagura on the ground like that... Chiyo wasn't even a teenager yet. I can't imagine what it did to her. Yomi attacked me. The police... they had to separate us."

Tomo let out a sigh long and low, full of shame. "Hard to talk about. Sakaki didn't fall for it. She knew I did it. Kagura... I remember her in that hospital bed. She shouted at me. She accused Sakaki of crippling her on purpose, out of jealousy that she was the better athlete. She raged at Chiyo for bringing her out there. She raged at all of us. She was broken."

"I remember the fallout in the news," Torako said. "A bunch of sensationalist headlines. Japan's hope for gold ruined, something like that." Like it was guaranteed to begin with, Torako thought.

"Yeah, I remember it too. It was a big deal then. Flashy graphics stinking up the evening news. It made me sick, Torako, but I was too cowardly to come forward. The charges against Yomi were dropped. Insufficient evidence, but the damage was done. Chiyo realized I had misled her about Yomi. They made it pretty clear they didn't want anything to do with me anymore. And of course, I guess you know what happened then."

"The Olympic committee sued Chiyo's parents," Torako said. "The civil lawsuit eventually destroyed his company."

"Yeah," Tomo said. "Chiyo gave me the full rundown of what happened." Tomo slapped her hands on her legs. "Sakaki forgave me. I think maybe Chiyo did too. She said she wasn't angry at me anymore. Maybe she forgave me in her heart, even if she didn't say it. And now... Yomi."

"Yomi," Torako said. "Our lawyer."

"Yeah. I'm going to apologize to her. This one is going to hurt. She was my best friend, Torako, and I threw it away. No matter how ridiculous it sounds, how... how undeserving I am of her forgiveness, I'm going to tell her I'm sorry. I deserve whatever she does to me after that."

"Tomo, we need a new lawyer."

Tomo looked up from her hands, twisting her cover. "What? No, no we don't. She's not like that."

"You can't will away that sort of emotional baggage," Torako said. "It's not ethical for her to be representing us anyway. She knows that, and she shouldn't have accepted this case."

"Who else is going to try to get us out? You know how the court system works. She's actually trying to argue our innocence!"

"So she says."

"Oh come on Torako! Okay, I'll make a deal with you. Or first hearing is coming up soon. Let's listen to her defend us. If there's even the slightest hint that she's not giving us her all... we'll get a new lawyer."

Torako leaned sideways into the wall. She was better able to see Tomo's face in the pale light. Tomo's face was constricted in anguish, like the last moments of rabbit being choked by a python. "I'm still your friend, Tomo," Torako said.

Tomo shook her head. "I know," she said. "I knew you would be. But I know you're disgusted with me."

"No," Torako said. "That happened ten years ago. That was another Tomo, one I never met. Not the one in front of me, trying to make amends."

Tomo slowly shook her head. "But Torako, I haven't tried to make amends! I never once confessed to the police. It's too late now. Statute of limitations expired on that five years ago."

"Sakaki would never want you to do that," Torako said.

The two sat in silence as the minutes passed. Torako wouldn't be able to last much longer, and moved to get into her own bunk.

"There's something else," Tomo said. "Something worse."

"Worse?" Torako said, her stomach sinking.

"I can't talk about it," Tomo said, and she saw Miruchi's terrified eyes under her shining knife. "I was a victim too."

Torako stared at the spot where she Tomo sat. "You don't have to," Torako said, gently. "Not until you're ready, or not at all if you don't want to. Just remember I'm always here for you, no matter what."

"I know," Tomo said. She giggled, and Torako's teeth were set on edge. In a nasally voice, Tomo said, "My husband."

"Goodnight Tomo," Torako said through a smirk, as she climbed into her bunk. From heartsick to flippant in less than a second, Torako thought. But she had to marvel at it, too.

...

"We have a trial date set," Yomi said, as the six met with their lawyer in the private conference room. She gave them the date, and studied their reactions.

"Wow, a week from now?" Tomo said. "That's quicker than I thought."

"They're trying to push this through as fast as possible, Ms. Takino," Yomi said. Tomo clenched her jaw and sunk into her chair. "It's going to be handled as a closed court. Only the five judges on the bench, four selected journalists - one from each of the main Tokyo papers - and twelve witnesses."

"Twelve," Torako said, her arms folded. "That sounds suspiciously like a trial by jury."

"It isn't." Yomi said. "The Japanese legal system never liked the trial by jury concept, and that's unlikely to change anytime soon." Yomi placed her black attaché on the table and snapped it open, pulling out a pile of papers that was instantly familiar to Torako.

"Where did you find that?" Torako said.

"It was a package delivered to my office," Yomi said. "I assume these are Mr. Akiyama's papers that you've been telling me about. These are heavy accusations, and I had to research through musty old databases to find support for the claims here." She patted the papers as a witch's familiar of a smile escaped from her lips. "This proved the legality of the arrest warrant, and the high court dropped all charges of treason."

The psychic release of tension and fear was of such a magnitude that it nearly took physical form. It was certainly felt. Tomo shouted "Yeah!" and pumped her fist. Osaka giggled and clapped.

"However," Yomi said, "you still have a host of charges against you. Murder, assault, destruction of federal property – well, I don't need to name them all."

"But you'll get us out, right Yomi?"

"I'll do my best, Ms. Kasuga. You lot have support in very high places," Yomi said, ignoring Tomo's sulking. "Despite the changing of the guard at the Ministry of Defense, the new Minister has come out in complete support for both Ms. Kasuga and Ms. Sakaki."

"Hooray!" Osaka said. "I knew Mr. Watanabe was a stand-up guy, even though he stole my favorite mug when I left it in the microwave that time. It had a bear on it pushing something that was supposed to be a barrel, but I think it kinda looked like them balls dung beetles push around."

"Hmm," Yomi said, using her elegant fingers to push up her designer glasses. "Well, the Ministry of Defense's antagonism toward Mr. Otomo was well known, to say the least. It's not a smashing media victory, but it's a start."

...

On April 23rd, at 745, the Seditious Six were transferred, under guard, from their respective cells to a prison van at the prisoner transport exit. The van was escorted by two policemen on motorcycles, driving ahead, and two squad cars driving behind. Lights and sirens hewed a path through the crowded city streets.

Tomo fidgeted, tapping her leg and trying to peer out the heavily tinted cargo door window. She shielded her eyes from the sun as she tried to gauge civilian interest in the police caravan.

"You know, this is going to get old really quick," Tomo said. "To get transported back and forth everyday – what a pain."

"Our futures are on the line, Takino," Kazumi said.

"Don't start," Tomo said. "I'm trying to lighten the mood."

"What surprises me is that we haven't been jumped yet," Torako said, as she watched Tomo exhale and put her hand on her stomach. "They're taking their time – don't want to get caught. Have you had any problems Hiro?"

"Nope," Hiro said. "I did some wheeling and dealing with a pile of cigarettes, and hired two bodyguards. No one's going to attack me."

"Wait a minute," Osaka said. "There was some other folks wanting to attack us?"

"There had to be," Torako said. Surprise and concern crept into her face as she realized what Osaka said. "Wait, what do you mean by 'some other'?"

"Well, I've been doing some spyin'," Osaka said, her eyes darting back and forth as if enemy agents were all around her. "'Bout two weeks ago I overheard some big woman talking about getting the glory for taking us down. The one with the eye patch."

"T-the Empress!" Tomo said. "She runs that prison! Even the guards are scared of her!"

"What did you do?" Torako said.

"I beat her up," Osaka said. "Broke her arm."

Torako shook her head as Tomo laughed in glee. "That's the spirit Osaka! A pre-emptive strike!"

"Wait," Kazumi said to Osaka. "I've seen you struggle opening an envelope. Are you sure you weren't just dreaming?"

"So rude!" Tomo said.

"Naw, I wasn't dreamin', unless I'm still dreamin' right now," Osaka said. "Her gang was with her, so I had to beat them up too."

"Ha!" Tomo said.

"They were good fighters I guess, but they hesitated so I took them out. That's when the pirate lady tried to sneak up behind me, and I broke her arm."

Torako held her chin. "That explains why I haven't seen her around recently. She must be in the hospital."

"But when she recovers and comes back," Hiro said, "She'll just try to kill you guys again."

"So?" Tomo said, putting an arm around Osaka. "We got Osaka! She'll send her right back, maybe with a broken leg!"

"I'll hit her in the pancreas," Osaka said.

"At least we know who our enemy is," Torako said. "That'll make it much easier to deal with when the time comes."  
"Hold on!" Kazumi said. "Are we actually believing Osaka here? No offense, but I can't believe you can take out the best fighter and her gang when I have to constantly untangle you from your bed sheets."

"Hey!" Tomo said. "If Osaka said she did it, then she did it! I've seen her, she's a- a super solider!"

Osaka saluted. "My prison name will be Captain Japan."

"I believe her," Torako said. Sakaki nodded in agreement.

Kazumi rolled her eyes and let out a sigh like sour milk. "Fine, whatever," she said. "Life was going too easy over there anyway."

...

Once arriving at the courthouse, the prisoners were escorted into a cramped waiting room, barely offering any space for maneuvering. The six were crammed up against the wall of the waiting room, elbow to elbow. No furnishings were available.

Guards came and escorted them to another waiting room, this one with chairs and a table – although still cramped.

"Ms. Mizuhara is taking her time," Hiro said, leaning back into his chair. He put his hands behind his head and started at the water-stained ceiling. "I wonder if she'll wear that tight black skirt today."

"Gross," Tomo said, curling her upper lip. "I guess being in prison has lowered your standards."

Hiro grinned and lowered his eyelids at half-mast. "Well," he said, but finished by shaking his head, inadvertently stealing a glance at Torako.

"You can stop thinking it," Torako said.

More guards came and moved the group to yet another room – this one with hot tea and cakes available.

"Well," Torako said as she surveyed the spread. "I wasn't expecting this. We aren't even in manacles."

"Mphd ufh," Osaka said, as she chewed her tea cake.

"I'm tired of getting moved around," Tomo said, as she sipped at her tea. "I bet this is what Hell's like, getting moved from room to room, but never meeting the one person you have to meet. Right Kazumi?"

"Mm," Kazumi said. She sat in a red plastic chair with her arms folded. He eyes were closed. She was the only one that didn't take any of the refreshments.

"It's like Hell, ain't it?"

"Hm," Kazumi said.

"You getting moved around a lot with a bunch of dread in your heart."

"Takino," Kazumi muttered, without opening her eyes. "Get away."

"Knowing the judges are going to have you execute, but never getting it over with, always hating, fearing the moment when your number is called."

Kazumi didn't answer, so Tomo gave up and took another chair. Her stomach twisted and turned, creating a wrenching pain that no food or drink could settle. Get it over with, she thought, as she took another sip.

She watched her friends as they sat down with their tea and cake. They can't all be this calm, Tomo thought. They're hiding it too. The dread... Tomo barely parted her lips, exhaling as slow as possible so no one would notice.

The guard posted outside the room opened the door, letting Yomi enter. Her frown was not a comfort to her clients.

"Hiya Yomi, you're kinda late," Osaka said, as crumbs fell from her mouth.

"I apologize," Yomi said with a bow. She was clearly flustered and struggled to control her heavy breathing. "I won't have much time to prepare you for the court case."

The six fell silent as they watched their lawyer. She put her attaché case in a chair, but didn't sit down.

"You'll be escorted to the defendants table of the courtroom. Please do not speak or show any emotion but calmness," Yomi said, with a force that startled the group. She ran her fingers through her hair and coughed to clear her throat.

"You okay?" Torako said.

Yomi nodded. "I had to wait for a computer tech to rebuild a crashed database. Nothing serious."

"Really," Torako said. Yomi's eyes narrowed before she turned to the rest of the group. "Defendants are assumed guilty, and then punished. We all know this is how it works. I'm taking a dangerous trail by arguing for the rightness of your actions. It's going to be tough going, but I know I can do it.

"The head judge will give instructions. Don't stare at anyone, don't talk, don't even whisper, understood? I mean, when it's over – or..." Yomi coughed into her fist. "This might be – they'll probably come to a decision today. I'm going ahead, and all of you should be shortly escorted to the court." Yomi grabbed her attaché case and left the room.

"I don't like this," Torako said.

"Oh, you don't like anything," Tomo said, her voice cracking. "I bet Yomi's got it all handled."

"Did we see the same Koyomi?" Torako said. "I got alarms going off in my head."

"We know who those instructions were for anyway," Kazumi said. Tomo didn't bother to respond, afraid that she couldn't control her voice.

"But Yomi sure looked bothered about something, don't ya think?" Osaka said. Sakaki nodded in agreement. "I wonder if she's constipated."

Tomo snorted a laugh while Kazumi rolled her eyes. "Pretty women like her don't get constipated," Hiro said. "It's against nature."

"Poor Kazumi," Tomo said. Kazumi ignored her.

The guards came, and escorted the six to the court room.


	36. Chapter 36

Under guard, the six were led from the final waiting room to the courtroom of the Tokyo High Court. They followed Yomi's instructions by not casting their glances around the court, and by flattening their faces into stoic calm. The guard led them across the bar and to the defendant's table, where Yomi and her assistant were already seated. They took their positions behind the table, Sakaki sitting next to Yomi's assistant, and Torako rounding out the end. They made sure not to stare at the prosecutor sitting in front of them, but stared straight ahead to a spot on the opposite wall.

The courtroom itself was clinical and unadorned, its design so straightforward and forgettable that it may as well have been built moments before the six entered. The air was so antiseptic that it could've easily been mistaken for another waiting room, if it wasn't for the three judges towering over the well. History didn't settle in this courtroom like dust settling on a window ledge, and the high drama of right and wrong were not found in its corners and curves; it was merely a space where guilt and punishment were bartered like common commodities. The silence of the fourteen people sitting in the gallery added a stifling air to the court, and it made Tomo's body clench in anxiety.

Across from the defendant's table sat the prosecutor's table, with the district attorney of Tokyo sitting directly across from his intended victims. Both tables were, in theory, under the dispassionate and objective gaze of the three judges.

Tomo had already prepared herself for hating the district attorney that would be arguing for her punishment, and his appearance made that job easier. He was a middle-aged man clinging to the spoiling signs of his youth. His face was movie-star smooth from all the rubs and washes he applied to it to cover aging, and his hair was carefully managed to keep it from looking too grey; it only looked respectfully grey. He surveyed his intended victims with a morally superior look that Tomo could feel in her bones, and it made her marrow burn like lava. She followed Yomi's advice the best she could and didn't glare at him; but if the wall behind him was alive, it would already have its feelings hurt.

The court clerk, seated below the judges' bench, stood. "The Nation of Japan vs. Tomo Takino, et al., is now before the docket."

"Court is now in session," the head judge said, hitting his gavel. "We will now hear the prosecutor's arguments."

And so the session started, with the prosecutor and Yomi arguing with each other over the presumed innocence of the seditious six. Yomi's argument was simple – the charges against them were frivolous because they were carrying out their assigned duties as both police officers and deputized assistants. The arrest warrant, issued by judge Ikewaki, and the writ ex nihilo, issued by the late chief Akiyama, gave the group full authority to carry out their actions. She heavily used the Akiyama papers to prove the legitimacy of the arrest warrant. The retired judge Ikewaki had already attended his inquest days earlier. His reason for issuing the warrant was read aloud to the court.

The prosecutor's statements were mostly token resistance to Yomi's claims, followed by conceding the point. He agreed there was no proof that the six were involved with the explosions that rocked the Kantei, and he agreed that there was no proof of a seventh member (Yomi artfully argued against that without actually admitting one way or another that there was a seventh member). His obvious concession to Yomi's arguments created such a state of disbelief in Tomo that she interpreted it as some gambit the prosecutor was stewing up, that he was leading Yomi down an argument choked with his dangerous plotting, and he would spring his trap at the last minute. Having mentally prepared herself for the worst-case scenario – condemnation, jail sentences, and possible execution for her – she couldn't easily accept what she was hearing. She grabbed Osaka's hand, as if it would siphon away the hope growing in her, a hope she didn't want because she knew it would be crushed, and its remains would cut her to splinters.

An hour later, both prosecutor and defender closed their arguments. The head judge announced that the three would retire to the chamber to come to a decision. The court clerk requested that all present remain seated. Tomo almost stole a glance at Yomi. They can't be coming to a decision already, Tomo thought.

The prosecutor stared into space, impassive, as if in the previous hour nothing had happened. Yomi was in neutral, and didn't show the glow of victory or the dankness of defeat. She rotated the pencil in her hand, while her eyes wandered over the grain of the oak table. Her assistant searched aimlessly in his notebook. Several times Kazumi held Tomo's knee to keep her from tapping her foot. Tomo's entire body was shaking, and she released Osaka's hand when she realized she was applying too much pressure. Osaka rubbed her hand under the table, trying to combat the wince invading her face.

The judges returned a mere five minutes later. The head judge took his place on the bench, and stood. Tomo grabbed Osaka's hand again, and Osaka couldn't help but let a dainty moan escape.

"After considering the evidence, we, the Tokyo High Court, have found the defendants to have upheld their duty as required by Japanese law in a professional and competent manner."

Osaka bit her lip and stifled a groan. She was sure her hand would break at any moment.

"We hereby declare the defendants innocent of all charges. Case dismissed."

Tomo jumped from her seat and pumped her fist in the air. "Hell yeah!" she shouted. Osaka followed, giggling, and lurched forward into Tomo. "We got 'em, O!" Tomo said, hugging Osaka and picking her up. The twelve witnesses in the gallery made a commotion of talking and standing. The prosecutor bowed – symbols Tomo read as allowing her celebration.

Hiro, Sakaki, and Kazumi jumped out of their chairs and congratulated each other with hugs and cheers. Sakaki's joy from the verdict and love for her friends overcame her natural squeamishness, and she hugged freely. Tomo savored Sakaki's warm and pillowy hug, and her obvious lingering reddened Sakaki's cheeks. Kazumi wore the biggest smile anyone could remember her having. Torako's reaction was subdued, but she partook of the celebration as well.

Yomi congratulated the group, bowing at each member individually. "I'm glad the judges came to the right decision," she said. "I'll take you to the waiting room where you can make any phone calls you need. I'll make sure the bailiff contacts the warden to have your belongings brought to you."

"They better have my gun," Torako said.

"Well let's get started!" Tomo said. "I want out of here before the judges change their minds."

"This way please," Yomi said. They followed her through gallery, where the four reporters and twelve witnesses chatted with each other, waiting for permission to leave. Before reaching the door, Torako took Tomo's shoulder and leaned into her ear.

"Look to your left."

Tomo looked.

"Other left."

Tomo looked the other way, and saw Alekhine standing in the gallery next to the door, wearing a black suit with a black tie and a white shirt, along with big black aviator glasses – the classic spook uniform of American G-men. Osaka gave him the A-OK symbol and a big smile, which Alekhine answered with a double thumbs up.

...

They were brought back to the main waiting room. Kazumi, Sakaki, Osaka, and Torako used the public phone kiosk in the main hall to call their respective families. Tomo had no calls to make, and paced around at the back of the room. She was too giddy to think straight, and any realistic concern for her future was eagerly shoved aside by revenge fantasies involving her strutting past a long line of people who had done her wrong, from the prosecutor down to that snot-nosed boy that pushed her in the sandbox when she was five. She giggled to herself and didn't care who heard her.

"Hi Tomo!" Osaka said, as she entered the waiting room. "Aw, I wanted some more of those cakes."

"Don't worry about that!" Tomo said, as she marched up to Osaka and started slapping her shoulders. "We're going to eat whole loads of cake! And steak!"

"Steak cake," Osaka said. "With mashed potato frosting."

"That sounds like a horrible idea, but why not!" Tomo said. She struck a pose like a superhero, fists dug into her waist while looking triumphantly into the distance – or at least the blue wallpaper of the waiting room. "We'll eat whatever we want, whenever we want! We're going to get so much money from the government, we won't have to work again! I'm going to buy a car!"

"Ooh," Osaka said. "I can afford new toilet seats when I move into an apartment."

"Apartment? We're getting houses, Osaka! Mansions! A castle in Europe! The White House!"

"I hate sitting on a used toilet seat. It's like an indirect kiss, but with butts."

Tomo slumped, her face poisonous with disgust and amazement. "You're trying really hard to ruin this, aren't you?"

"Sorry," Osaka said. "But I got us a place to stay if ya need to move in."

"Yes!" Tomo said, pumping her fist. "Thanks Osaka, I was afraid I'd have to spend my own money."

Torako shambled into the waiting room, granting Osaka and Tomo a nod before taking a seat at the table. She stretched her legs out and crossed her arms, her unfocused gaze dribbling to the floor.

"Oh, great," Tomo said, stalking around the table to stand over Torako. She couldn't help but roll her eyes. "I know what this means."

"I'm glad somebody does," Osaka said. "I ain't good at charades."

"It's not charades!" Tomo said, tossing a glare at Osaka. "Torako's acting all paranoid again." Tomo put her hands on her hips and leaned over Torako. "We got our freedom back, just like we planned! We don't have to hide anymore, Torako."

Torako looked up. "That trial was rigged."

"Oh my god!" Tomo said in English, flinging her arms heavenward. "Who the hell cares? Now you're gonna go on a crusade to prove it, huh? Get us thrown back in jail?"

"We won't be tried again," Torako said. She looked past Tomo. "I'm not going to do anything about it, Tomo. I can't do that work anymore. You're free, and that's what's important."

"We're free," Tomo said. "Don't try to make me look selfish."

Torako looked up at Tomo. Her frown, etched into her face for so long, through so many terrible days of desperate hiding and sickening fear, broke into a gentle smile. "I didn't mean it like that," Torako said. "You're free, and that's what I wanted from the beginning." He smile widened, and her eyes softened into a deep glow of warm affection. Tomo's heart fluttered and her breath caught in her chest.

"D-don't give me that look," Tomo stammered. "With those thick eyelashes. Try and manipulate my emotions, huh? I'll knock you out of that chair!" Tomo heard a snicker from the door, and turned to face Hiro, who was leaning against the frame. Tomo marched toward him and glared. "What are you laughing about?"

"You're blushing," Hiro said.

Tomo backhanded his chest. Hiro gracefully righted himself before falling through the door. "So? It's not what you're thinking, perv! Don't you know anything about women?"

Hiro stood in the doorway, ready to bolt in case Tomo tried to hit him again. "I know plenty about women," he said, narrowing his eyes into a lascivious stare.

"Ugh, I don't want to hear that!" Tomo said.

"Osaka," Torako said, her stern voice cutting through Tomo's embarrassment. "What was Alekhine doing there?"

"Alekhine?" Hiro said.

"Some guy you don't want to know about." Tomo said in a mock whisper.

"Oh, he was the backup plan in case they said we were guilty," Osaka said. "See, we were planning on busting the place up and getting everybody to escape. We had waiting airplanes and clothes and everything. Glad we didn't have to use 'em, though."

"Hey, we can still use them!" Tomo said, moving in front of Torako so she wouldn't ask any more questions and ruin her mood. "I don't mind an airplane trip! Sounds like fun!"

The other three wandered in shortly afterwards, followed by Yomi's assistant. He wore his hair long and shaggy, and sported granny glasses on his effeminate face. "May I have your attention," he said, holding up his notebook. "I'm Ms. Mizuhara's assistant, Ando. There are some minor issues I've been asked to execute, and they'll be to your benefit."

"Hold on," Tomo said, bristling at his use of the term 'execution'. "Where's Yomi?"

"Ms. Mizuhara had to return to the firm," the assistant said. "There are some other cases she needs to concentrate on. There are some papers that need signing, and I'll do my best to meet any civil needs you may have integrating back into society."

...

The six studiously checked their belongings for any signs of damage, and checked their memories for any sign of theft. All was in order, at least to the best of their memory.

They changed into their gear and loitered outside the Tokyo high court building, holding jackets in the crook of their arm while waiting for their scheduled transportation, or just waiting. They left the shade of the concrete building, built with the attitude of a bunker and looking like a typical office building, and stood in the sidewalk next to a concrete wall topped with bushes trimmed like a high top fade.

They cast their fate against a monstrous system together, they were caged together, they hid together, and now freedom had broken their chains and crushed their cages. So they stood together finally, not speaking, stealing glances and wondering how they could separate so casually after being together so fiercely. Tomo squatted on the ground, sometimes leaning toward Osaka, and other times leaning toward Torako. She kept her eyes ahead over the parking lot and through the gap between two buildings in front of the high court. She could see the trees of Hibya Park just ahead. She imagined walking through that park, taking deep breaths of the fresh air and admiring the new colors of spring. She could have stood up and walked over there, but she didn't want to leave her friends. And she had to talk to Yomi.

Sakaki held her own leather trench coat, folded neatly, in both arms, as if it was a favorite childhood plush toy. The muscles in her jaw were visible as she clenched and unclenched, chaining together words that just couldn't leave her heart, no matter how hard she was beckoning them. Hiro, usually so eager to hold up his façade of a suave lady-killer, was staring at the sidewalk with a frown. Kazumi stood stock straight, holding her body rigid as if it would collapse into pieces if she lost just a moment's control. Torako leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and wore her black aviator glasses even though there was no sun shining in her face. Osaka... well, she seemed the same as always, staring blankly into an invisible distance only she could see, her eyes glazed over and her mouth open in a goofy, brainless smile.

Torako found her partially smoked cigar in her jacket, a gift from Akiyama months ago, and turned it over in her fingers. Tomo's face was crouched at the starting line, ready for the gunshot that would signal the race to dry heaving.

Torako put the cigar in her mouth, and Tomo gagged.

"Got something to say?" Torako said through teeth clenched around her cigar. She produced her zippo lighter and lit the cigar, puffing occasionally to make sure the cigar was well lighted. She inhaled, held the smoky miasma of chocolate and cherry in her lungs, and exhaled. She slowly turned her face to Tomo, who had somehow turned green.

"I can't believe you Torako!" Tomo said. "I thought you had to quit!"

"I did," Torako said. She pulled the cigar out of her mouth and observed it. "Just need to finish this off." She put it back in her mouth and heard Osaka's scattershot laughing.

"It looks like you put a poop in your mouth and set it on fire," Osaka said.

Torako looked at Osaka and let part of her lip curl into a smile. "Thanks Osaka."

"Um," Sakaki said, as she gave a coy sidelong glance. "I think it makes you look cool."

"Not very feminine though," Hiro said. Torako spared him a glance and was surprised to see thoughtfulness instead of facetiousness. Kazumi turned to make her own opinion of Torako smoking a cigar, and her eyes widened in alarm.

"Is it really that bad?" Torako said, looking at Kazumi.

"No, it makes you look like a steamship," Alekhine said. "On the Mississippi. Right before the boiler explodes."

Torako slowly turned her head to see Alekhine's deranged brown eyes staring into her black shades. Behind him Tomo held a pose of shock a little too long, and tipped backwards into Osaka, who righted her. Torako removed the cigar from her mouth.

"What," Torako said, expelling smoke into his face.

"Who is this guy?" Hiro said, taking a step forward.

"Oh, that's Alekhine," Osaka said, waving her hand. "He was our se-uhmmphh!"

"Oh, don't worry about it!" Tomo said, holding a hand over Osaka's mouth. "I mean, if we had an alleged seventh member, he would be the alleged person who, uh, allegedly interdicted-"

"We get the picture," Kazumi said. She folded her arms and sent shockwaves of scorn throughout the community. "You left pretty quick when the police had us surrounded. I guess it was more important to save yourself. Of course, you got out of going to jail."

"Had to be outside to bust you out if justice didn't work," Alekhine said. He reached into his black suit jacket and pulled out a letter. He thrust his arm, as straight as a 2x4 plank, at Osaka behind him without actually turning to face her. Tomo had to dodge out of the way of pointy papercut doom.

"Ooh," Osaka said, taking the envelope.

"It worked though." He turned away leaned against the wall, the bush prickling his hair, and watched Osaka as she read the letter.

"Well?" Tomo said. "Did you get a big inheritance that you can share with everybody?"

Smiling, Osaka lowered the letter and looked at the group. "I got fired!"

"Fired?" Tomo said. Torako puffed on her cigar and squinted behind her shades.

"It's a notice of termination," Osaka said. "The Ministry of Defense says I don't work for them no more. I ain't under the supervision of the US Embassy no longer, either." Osaka's shoulders slumped. "Aww," she whined. "No more free money."

"Wait," Hiro said. "You worked for the Americans?"

"Long story," Tomo and Torako said simultaneously. Tomo punched Torako in the shoulder. "Ha! Too slow!"

"You're going to have to tell us sometime," Kazumi said to Torako. "This could come back and haunt us."

"Are you okay Osaka?" Sakaki said. Her concern shamed Kazumi for giving in to her self-preservation instincts. Sakaki's eyes flittered from Alekhine to Osaka.

"Nah Sakaki, I'm good," Osaka said. "It just means I'll have to start thinkin' different. You know, about jobs and all."

"So," Torako said. She took off her glasses while holding her cigar between clenched teeth. She stared at Alekhine as she spoke. "Those promises from the Ministry didn't mean much, did they?"

"Nope," Alekhine said, as he put on his own Ray Bans. "I terminated my contract after they told me about dumping Sweet Tea."

Torako arched an eyebrow. "Really," she said.

"Yep. I flipped tables over at the embassy and set the garbage can in the kitchen on fire. That was my resignation notice. Set off the sprinklers, but someone replaced the water with gasoline and the entire U.S. embassy building caught on fire. It was awful. Apparently tens of thousands of spiders were living in the walls and they started coming out-"

"What the hell?" Hiro said.

"Don't worry about it," Torako said. "You'll get used to it."

A car pulled up and stopped at the sidewalk in front of them. Sakaki strode forward and met her mother jumping out of the passenger seat.

The rest were silent as Sakaki greeted her parents, both surprisingly short and stocky compared to their tall and graceful daughter. The father took Sakaki's coat and placed it in the back seat.

After a few words, Sakaki turned and faced the group. She fumbled over her words, and searched the sidewalk as if it would help her speak.

Osaka stepped forward. "Bye Sakaki!" she said. "Let us know how everything goes! I'll call you for lunch or a movie or something."

"Thank you, Osaka. I'd like that."

Tomo jutted forward and stood in front of the two. "I'm going to talk to Yomi, Sakaki," she said, and Sakaki nodded.

"Please let me know how it goes," Sakaki said. "Tell her I miss her."

Sakaki took a step back and bowed to the group, and each one returned her bow. "Goodbye," she said. She stood still again, struggling with her thoughts, and then turned toward the car. She entered, her parents chattering. The car drove off.

Kazumi watched it leave, and sighed. She turned to the others. "I've loitered long enough," she said. She bowed. "Good luck everyone."

The others said their goodbyes. Kazumi nodded, and walked down the sidewalk, heading toward home.

They stood in silence until a taxi pulled up. "That's for me," Hiro said. He said his goodbyes to the group, and eyed Alekhine suspiciously. He too promised to keep in touch.

Torako ground out her cigar in her hand, and put it in her pants pocket. "That's going to last me awhile." She turned toward the three, and said. "I've waited long enough. I need to catch the train to Wakayama."

"Staying with your mom?" Tomo said, hoping Torako didn't catch the waver in her voice.

"Yeah," Torako said. "Mr. Ando says he's going to try to get my house back, or at least compensation. I'll be coming back here, don't worry."

"I'm not worried!" Tomo said. "Why would I be worried? That's crazy talk."

Torako smiled, a gesture both Tomo and Osaka enjoyed each time she did it. "You guys got a place to stay?"

"I got a place for 'em," Alekhine said.

"Yeah, me and Osaka got a place," Tomo said. "I haven't even seen it yet. I'll hang low until the big payout comes."

"Good luck with that," Torako said. She moved forward and took Tomo and Osaka in each arm and squeezed them near. The two put their arms around each other, and Torako bent down and kissed each one on the side of their heads. They broke the hug, and the three wore the sagging faces of drained emotion and mental tiredness. Torako tousled Osaka's hair and patted Tomo on the cheek.

"I like the affectionate Torako," Osaka said. "She needs to come out more."

"Only for today," Torako said. "I'll call you when I get there." She turned her attention to Alekhine, and said, "Don't go batty on them."

Alekhine launched a maniacal grin. "I'll go batty on whoever the hell I want. Glad you got out of the hotel."

Torako stood still for a moment, blinking in response. "Yeah," she growled. "Thanks for helping me. I mean it."

Alekhine nodded, and Torako wondered how much of his crazy was an act. She didn't waste her time on figuring it out. She turned to leave, waving her hand in a lazy goodbye.

"Bye Torako!" Osaka said, waving at Torako's unseeing back as Tomo stared at her retreating figure. When Torako was out of eyesight, Tomo rubbed her eyes and sniffed.

"Okay," Tomo said, turning to Alekhine and Osaka. "Take me to see Yomi."


	37. Chapter 37

The ugly black car drove through the patience-mocking beginnings of the Tokyo lunch rush, and Tomo sat in the back wondering what she was getting herself into now. Yomi made her refusal to socialize with her old friends painfully obvious when she vanished herself after the trial, and the ride to the Kawasaki Firm made Tomo bounce with fear of rejection, and her imagination fought between scenes of a tearful reunion and a shouting match. Maybe it'll be both, Tomo thought. First the fighting and the shouting, and then everything's okay and we can start over again. Yeah, and maybe I'm a Chinese jet pilot.

"Osaka," Tomo said to the passenger seat, "would you please stop fiddling with the radio?"

"I'm looking for the news station," Osaka said, turning around to face Tomo.

Alekhine punched a preset and the exaggerated golden tones of a male anchor filled the car with a cat-comes-back story.

"I don't want to hear about some snot-nosed kid whining about his dumb pet," Tomo said. "They oughta be full of the court case by now."

"Gee Tomo," Osaka said. "You sound awfully grumpy."

"Really Osaka?" Tomo said, leaning forward and grabbing the shoulder of the passenger seat. "Really? Come on, you're not that oblivious."

"Be nice," Alekhine said.

"Stay out of it!"

"My car," Alekhine said. He held his fist in the air. "My fist."

"You wouldn't survive one second if you tried to punch me," Tomo said. She kicked the back of his seat. "Misogynist!"

Alekhine unballed his fist and held his hand flat, palm facing the windshield.

"Slap me either," Tomo said.

Alekhine moved his fingers and hand into a shape that was a cross between a DNA strand and a broken coffee pot.

"What the heck is that?"

"I don't know, but I can't wait to try it out."

The station identification faded out and Osaka turned down the volume to avoid being blasted by an obnoxious commercial for hay flavored tea soda, presented by a screaming, manic man promising to inflict terrible physical pain on himself if the drink's restorative properties didn't work. Alekhine pulled the car into a parking spot and powered down.

"There it is," Osaka said, pointing at the sign announcing the Kawasaki Law Firm. "Want me to go with ya, Tomo?"

"No, I need to do this alone. Thanks though. Now let me out of this stupid thing."

Osaka opened her door and stepped outside, adjusting her seat so Tomo wouldn't have to struggle so much to leave the car. Instead of taking the exit Osaka graciously prepared, Tomo leaned into Alekhine's seat, grabbed the adjustment lever, and pulled. She pushed the seat forward and squished Alekhine between the seat and the steering wheel, crawling on top to open his door.

"Uhh..." Osaka said, blank-faced at Tomo's inefficient method of exiting a two-door vehicle.

Tomo struggled between the seat and the ceiling like an elephant seal waddling over sand while heading for the ocean. She managed to squirt herself out onto the sidewalk. Alekhine, who let not a peep of complaint escape while being squished, righted his seat.

"Congratulations! You have relived your birthing process," Alekhine said, as Tomo shut the door in his face. She walked toward the entrance of the Kawazaki firm wearing a determined face to calm the Tomo trembling in a corner of her brain. Alekhine was shouting now, "You left the primeval golden age, breathing the nectar of your swampy world's atmosphere until that moment when your mother pushed you out of her uterus into the blinding evil light of a hate filled-" and Tomo heard him no more as she entered into the law firm, shutting the door behind her.

The reception room overreached quality and luxury, with its royal purple carpet and authentic Edwardian furniture. The dark cherry frame of the guest chairs were polished like a mirror, and were upholstered with a diamond pattern cloth boasting astronomical thread counts. The diamonds on the seat, in patterns of red and white, seemed to move when Tomo walked past while staring at them. Even the walls were covered with wood paneling, the dark brown monotony broken up with display cases, framed pictures, and a fake mantel with a large frosted crystal vase of tulips. It made Tomo dizzy, and the scared, cowering Tomo in her brain was soon joined by the madly giggling, impish Tomo that wanted to break things and turn the office into scrap. Not now, she thought, as she grimaced and tapped the side of her head with her fist. I got important business, okay? Sheesh!

"Pardon me ma'am," the receptionist said, her eyes showing how creeped out she was at this woman muttering to herself and hitting her own head. "May I help you? Are you lost?"

"What?" Tomo said, straightening up. "Ha ha, no! I was just trying to make myself remember something, you know! Following my steps backwards, to see where I last left my watch!"

The receptionist pointed to Tomo's left wrist. "You have it on."

"Oh wow!" Tomo said, flinging her wrist up to eye level to study her digital watch. "I forgot that step! Thanks!" Ugh, why do I have to look like an idiot?

Tomo strode to the receptionist desk and had to put on the brakes before she bumped her knees. "I'm here to see Ms. Mizuhara."

The receptionist poised a finger with a red polished nail over a button on her phone console. "May I ask who's visiting?"

"Tomo Takino," Tomo said, as she got ready to race down the hall looking for Yomi's office when she was inevitably turned away.

"Just a moment," the receptionist said, plunging down the call button. Yomi answered after two rings.

"Yes," she stated.

"Tomo Takino is here to see you, Ms. Mizuhara."

"Send her in, please," Yomi said. There was no hesitation, no wary shift in her tone of voice. It was the same professional attitude she had shown while representing Tomo as her lawyer to the Tokyo High Court.

The receptionist gave Tomo directions to Yomi's office. Tomo took a deep breath and followed the directions, occasionally peeking in other offices with open doors. The thick carpet and narrow walls made Tomo's skin itch, and she scratched her shoulder as she reached Yomi's office. The door was open, so she couldn't make a dramatic, door-bursting entrance.

"Hi Yomi!" Tomo said, as she entered. Yomi was seated behind a modern looking desk, its spidery metal frame not hiding Yomi's long legs, her bare feet next to the pile of her navy blue high heels. Her casual pose and minimal office décor were at odds with the stuffy firm.

"Hello, Ms. Takino," Yomi said, as Tomo sunk into a lumbar-shattering chair. "Has Mr. Ando been helpful?"

"Huh? Oh, he's lame," Tomo said, as she shifted in her seat, her left arm leaning on the arm rest. "I mean, he doesn't think we're going to get a big payout, so he has that against him." Tomo forced out a laugh, trying not to be disturbed by Yomi's insistence on professionalism. "But this isn't about him. Um, it's kind of a social call."

"I see."

Tomo lurched out of her chair. She shut the door before sitting down again. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, hands held together. "Yomi, can we please drop the professional act? I want to talk to you. Person to person."

Yomi pressed a button on her phone and told the receptionist to hold all calls and enforce privacy for her office. Yomi leaned back in her chair and let her expression become shockingly weary. Lines appeared under her eyes and the skin stretched over her cheekbones became brittle, dried paper. "Okay," Yomi said. "Go ahead."

Tomo blurted, "I'm sorry about what happened at Chiyo's beach house. Lying to the police about you to protect myself was the lowest thing I've ever done. I can't imagine how it made you feel – I'm sorry Yomi." She wrung her hands together. "And you went out of your way to defend us. I don't know how I can make what I did up to you. Just..." Tomo leaned back in her chair. "I'm sorry. There, I said it. I should have said it years ago. It's okay if you hate me or don't forgive me... well, actually, it's not okay, but I'll understand. I'm sorry Yomi, and I hope you can forgive me one day."

Yomi didn't break her eagle gaze during the apology, and Tomo's fidgeting entered hyperdrive. Finally, Yomi looked down and played with fingernails, as if she was cleaning one. Tomo didn't want to get irritated, but Yomi was trying her patience.

Before Tomo's fidgeting warped time and space, Yomi looked up, her eyebrows raised. "I forgive you."

"Really? You forgive me?" Tomo leaned forward, her eyes growing wide.

"Yes," Yomi said. She looked down to play with another fingernail, her face barely holding back the anger that threatened to crack her skin. "Now please leave my office. We don't need to see each other again."

Tomo's mouth parted, and she stared at Yomi as if she was far away. "Why? If you forgive me, I don't-"

Yomi deigned to look up. "I'm glad you shut the door. I have something I've wanted to say to you a long, long time." Yomi crossed her legs and put her hands in her lap. She stared straight ahead at Tomo. "You're the worst thing that's ever happened to me. You made me feel like garbage every day we were together. I used to starve myself because you constantly railed on how fat I was. You made me feel grossly unattractive, Tomo. You made me hate myself. You constantly insulting me and putting me down made sick with anxiety. You wrecked my self-respect, and it took a long time for me to get that back."

"Yomi, I'm sorry! I'm sorry I said all those things, I was wrong!"

Yomi picked up a pen, capping and uncapping it while staring at Tomo. "You had eight years to look me up, and suddenly you decide you want to apologize? I'm not going to question your sincerity, but I don't think you've changed a bit."

"Of course I've changed, Yomi! I'm a different person now! I mean, I still love having fun and goofing off, but I'm not cruel and selfish like I once was!"

Yomi leaned back in her leather chair, her arms on the armrests, and viewed Tomo with an imperial air, as if she was a prisoner brought before her throne. "Would you treat me the same now as you did then?"

"No, never!"

Yomi shook her head. "No, you would. I watched how you treat Ms. Kondo. You constantly belittle and antagonize her, like you did me." Yomi leaned forward, fixing Tomo with a stare so cold she froze to the seat. "She's serious minded like I was, and you can't stand that. You have to belittle her and put her down to make yourself feel better. Fortunately, she's a grown woman and won't be as hurt and miserable as you made me."

Tomo squirmed. "It's not the same."

"You could've fooled me," Yomi said. "And what about killing Oda Otomo? I know it was an accident, but don't you feel even the slightest remorse for taking his life? Maybe even an iota of guilt."

"No," Tomo said, her hard voice causing Yomi to squint as if she misheard. "He ordered me tortured. Rico is dead because of him. I wish I hadn't killed him, but I'm not sorry he's dead."

Yomi studied Tomo before responding. "How do you know this?"

"He told me before I shot him."

"You didn't tell me this."

"There's no proof, so it wouldn't do me any good. I've been a cop long enough to know how the justice system works. Anything I claimed he said before I killed him would have been dismissed as hearsay."

Yomi nodded. "True," she said. "But the point remains."

"What point? I'm promising you I changed! Ask Sakaki and Osaka. Yomi, we were best friends one. Can we at least try to be friends again?"

"Tomo, why would we ever want be friends again?"

"Because we loved each other."

Yomi had maintained a controlled expression throughout the argument, her face a mask of tightly controlled emotion. But now, Yomi turned pale, her nostrils dilating with each hard breath. "Don't you dare come in my office and say that to me. Our friendship was a sham."

"It was not!" Tomo said, standing up. "Look into my eye and tell me that!"

Yomi took a deep breath, and let it out. "Look at yourself," she said, her voice deeper. "You come into my office to apologize for getting me in trouble with the police, for tricking the others into thinking I crippled Kagura, and now you're yelling at me because your little reunion fantasy isn't going how you imagined."

Tomo reacted as if she had been struck, reeling back as her eyes opened at the truth of how selfish she was being. She lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Yomi."

"I'm tired of hearing that from you," Yomi said. She took off her glasses and rested them on the desk. "I forgive you for what you did. I have to. Otherwise my life would be full of bitterness and rage, and that wouldn't be good for me or my clients. Now please leave, and stay out of my life."

"But what about Sakaki?" Tomo said, lifting her head. "And Osaka? They didn't do anything to you. They miss you."

Yomi shook her head. "I can't," she said. "They're friends with you, and I can't have you even peripherally associated with my life. They remind me too much of what happened, and how miserable you made me."

Tomo's eyes narrowed into a hard stare. "Why did you take our case then, Yomi?"

"The facts pointed to you being innocent of treason and murder, and I knew it would make my name if I could get those charges dropped. I did it to further my career. Selfish reasons."

Tomo felt her spine tingle as she leaned on the desk and stared down at Yomi. "Our trial was rigged, and you know it. Did you make some kind of deal to get us free? Did you have dirt on the prosecutor, or one of the judges?"

"No," Yomi said, frowning. "Don't lean on my desk."

"It was unethical," Tomo said, leaning harder on Yomi's desk, "to represent us, with what happened between us in the past."

"Tomo, stop leaning on my desk and get out. Make an effort to read the case documents and you'll see I successfully argued my ability to defend you despite what happened between us. It was approved by the bar. Now, for the last time, get out, or I will call security."

Tomo turned and walked toward the door. With her hand on the knob, she turned to Yomi and said, "I know you're tired of hearing it, but I'm sorry for making you upset. I miss you Yomi, but I'll stay out of your life. But if any of that behind-the-scenes stuff – and I know there is some – comes back to bite any of my friends, I will be seeing you again."

"I'm going to take that as a threat, lame as it is," Yomi said with a barely hidden sneer. "And if you try to see me again, here or elsewhere, I will press charges of stalking and invasion of privacy. I'll get a restraining order on you."

Don't leave it like this, Tomo thought, as Yomi watched her with imperial impatience. I have to make it better.

She opened the door and left.

...

Two months later and no one was talking about the raid on the Kantei. That event had long been swept away by news concerning adultery between a baseball star and a movie actress.

Tokyo summers were hot and humid, and Tomo mentally complained as she walked to her job, the neighborhood sidewalk populated with scowling truants and haughty-eyed gangster wannabes. The apartment Alekhine had acquired for her and Osaka, while serviceable, was not located in the friendliest of neighborhoods.

Tomo was wearing a new pair of green hightops, black shorts, and a bright yellow t-shirt with an abstract design that looked like a green amoeba devouring a purple blob. She had grown her hair out, and, shocking her friends, wore it in a ponytail when out in public. She kept her bangs combed over her forehead, because "wind blowing on my forehead feels weird." She also wondered if people wouldn't recognize her with this style. Sympathizers and angry jingoists alike accosted her enough where she imagined herself becoming as paranoid as Torako.

Maybe not paranoid, but she was aware enough of her surroundings to see a vaguely familiar woman walking toward her, her wavy brown hair gently lifting and falling with her quick pace. Great, Tomo thought. Just great.

"I don't sign autographs anymore," Tomo said, when the woman stood in front of her. Geez, I know I've seen her somewhere before.

"Play dumb, Takino," the woman said in a husky voice. "You're not getting out of this. I found out where you work and waited for you to show up."

"Getting out of what, huh? I don't even know who you are, stalker."

"It's Yuka, stupid. We worked together at the _Steam Donkey._"

"Yuka!" Tomo said, her voice shining with as much enthusiasm as she could muster without getting sick. Crap, what does she want? "Sorry, but I didn't recognize you with your clothes on. So, how's tricks?"

A crowd stood at a respectful distance when they realized the morning's entertainment had arrived, and several hooted at Tomo's insult.

Yuka shook her head, her full rosy lips curled with contempt. "Always making jokes. Well, I got one for you, the biggest joke of all."

"Listen Yuka," Tomo said, in a conciliatory tone. "I know we didn't get along, but I'm trying to get to work right now. If you want to talk-"

"You killed Miruchi," Yuka said. "And you got away with it."

The eyes and ears of the crowd pressed in on Tomo, their heat more abusive and oppressive than the summer she was standing in.

"I d-didn't kill Miruchi," Tomo said.

Yuka grinned like a pouncing lioness at Tomo's stutter. "You lie," Yuka said. "How did you get away with it? Did you forge that secretary's suicide note? People believe that lie you made, that Miruchi and Aya were lovers."

"Yuka? You're acting crazy. I'm sorry about what happened to Miruchi, and you gotta believe me that I had nothing to do with it. I woke up next to her with no memory-"

Yuka took a swing at Tomo, hitting her in the side of the face.

...

"...and disturbing the peace," officer Kazu said.

Tomo sat in the chair in front of officer Kazu's metal desk, her arms folded and her bruised face scowling at the bulletin board tacked full of letters and flyers, most of them yellow and brittle with age. Tomo figured if she looked at them hard enough, they'd crack on their own. The tiny koban had the shutters open to allow a breeze to circulate, and the creaky ceiling fan added its worth to cooling down the koban.

"She started it," Tomo muttered.

"That's what the witnesses say," officer Kazu said, his bulk barely hidden by his dented desk. "That will help you a little bit, but forcibly undressing her in public was not the proper response."

"Officer, you know my history," Tomo said, breaking her gaze to stare at him in his piggish, but oddly endearing, face. "I used to be a detective. I could have broken every bone in her body if I wanted to, but I was trying not to hurt her. I don't want to be in the news ever again."

The phone at officer Kazu's desk rang. He grunted, and picked up the receiver. Tomo half listened to what he said, gazing out of the open window to her left. No one was peaking in.

"I don't think you'll have to worry," officer Kazu said, hanging up the phone. "My partner said Ms. Yuka just signed a written statement promising not to accost you in the future. She won't press any charges."

Tomo squinted at the officer – that was an unorthodox way to handle a public brawl. I wonder if they're looking out for me because I used to be a cop.

"Well, I won't press any charges either," Tomo said. "Except for charges of being ugly and stupid."

The officer held back a chuckle. "Good to hear it. Ms. Yuka is being driven home. Do you need any transportation?"

Tomo said she didn't, and after thanking officer Kazu, left the koban.

...

How did I become such a sneering cynic about life? Tomo thought. She used to treat life as an adventure to be lived as loudly and energetically as possible. Good times were her career – everything else was just a job. She had to struggle to display anything close to a good mood to her friends. Otherwise, her emotions wandered in a hidden grotto with dim light and stale air.

It's Miruchi, Tomo thought. I can't deal with Miruchi. I can cope with Rico's death now, so why the hell can't I cope with Miruchi? Why couldn't it at least be the other way around?

One morning, shortly after the trial, Tomo got brave. She woke up, and Rico wasn't the first thing she thought of. When she thought of Rico that day, brushing her teeth while staring into the mirror in her and Osaka's bathroom, she dropped her toothbrush at the implications of it. I betrayed him, she thought. His shrine in her memory had been desecrated by her negligence. It was ridiculous, and she knew it. She wasn't expected to grieve for the rest of her life.

She wasn't expected to be celibate for the rest of her life, either. Spring, typical spring, awoke urges in Tomo that she thought were gone for good. Tomo treated sex as Serious Business. While most barely acquainted with her would assume she could be a late-nigh playgirl, Tomo only wanted partners with whom she was emotionally attached, and who wanted a long-term relationship. She didn't want to pursue a romantic relationship, and so decided to fudge her rules – just for now.

One night, she managed to pull a guy, a self-confident young professional that poured on the flattery. After fumbling through the pre-coital negotiation – Tomo made it clear that this was only a one-night stand – she let him take her to a hotel. Sex felt great after so long, and her partner was obviously experienced.

But shortly after it was over, Tomo felt empty and depressed (and even guilty!), and she knew _that_ was ridiculous too. How long is this going to last? she thought. When can I be normal again?

Tomo actively worked at coping with her feelings. Discussing them with Osaka helped, since she had been through the same ordeal of losing a husband. The circumstances were vastly different, but the lingering feelings were still there, feelings that were currently impeding Tomo's enjoyment of life. She would always love Rico; she always _wanted_ to love Rico, and now she was learning to cope with the traumatic emotions sullying her love for him.

But Miruchi still remained. Her pleading, tearful face, her eyes rolling into her head as the knife slid across her throat, and that terrifying, soul crippling rattle of air as she desperately tried to breath. Miruchi wasn't going away, and Tomo didn't know how to live with it.

...

"Now now," Sakaki said. "This won't hurt."

Sakaki bent low over the Shih Tzu puppy, holding him with her elegant hand as she gently prodded his mouth with a syringe. He opened his jaws, and Sakaki pressed the plunger, squirting the medicine into his mouth. He licked the tip of the syringe with his tiny pink tongue while his young owner, in pigtails and overalls, watched with concern. Her mother held her shoulder to comfort her.

Sakaki gently picked the puppy up and squatted in front of the young girl. Smiling, Sakaki held out the puppy for the girl to take.

"He's perfectly healthy," Sakaki said, as the girl held the Shih Tzu, licking his chops, close to her chest. "But make sure to walk him every day, okay? It'll make him feel good."

"Yes Doctor," the girl said with a vigorous nod that started from her feet and moved her body.

...

Sakaki was completely exonerated from charges of arson and insurance fraud. Ando managed to get a breach of contract order against her insurance company, and they were forced to pay the money they owed her for her destroyed clinic, with interest.

She couldn't get her old office back, as it had been sold off. Sakaki didn't want to force the current owners out, so she used her money to buy an abandoned office building and convert it to a veterinarian clinic. Several of her old employees jumped at the chance to work with Sakaki again, and their loyalty warmed Sakaki's heart.

Her new clinic had a lot more windows than the old one, and Sakaki decorated it with plants and flowers, all done because of some secret urge brought forth by a memory she couldn't completely recall. Her old clients returned, some even from out of the way neighborhoods. Their loyalty was touching as well.

Sometimes, Sakaki was happy and content, although she was acutely aware that she was the only one of the group to return to the status quo. The four former cops no longer worked for the police force they had saved from corrupted, degenerate men, and they were not offered their jobs back. Osaka didn't have the deep purse of the Ministry of Defense to buy prime real estate like what she once had for her Mexican restaurant and she couldn't be a teacher until she finished her college major, which she was loathe to do when she needed a job to support herself. Even Alekhine, despite being on the periphery of their group, had the gumption to quit his job out of loyalty and friendship to Osaka. He even spent his own money to buy a simple trailer for Osaka to use as a taqureia. Sakaki also went out of her way to support her friends anyway she could, and was able to see Osaka and Tomo at least once a week. She was happy enough with her present life that her doctor lowered the dosage of her medications. At her doctor's recommendation, she was currently, over a period of four months, discontinuing her usage of clozapine.

Sakaki hung up her lab coat in her office and used a red marker to mark her initials on the whiteboard listed "Lunch Hours". Her heels spiked against the floor and echoed their strikes with each step. The reception area was empty of customers and staff. She was about to request someone to take the front desk when, on the desk next to the brass call bell, she spotted a wooden box.

She approached it slowly, not realizing she dropped her red vinyl purse on the floor. The sunlight of the noonday shafted against the box, and the lint glowed like spirits as they swirled around the wooden object. Sakaki was overcome with a strange religious reverence, as if she was an explorer finding an ancient overgrown temple untouched by man for many centuries.

I've seen this before, she thought. Was it in a book? Her elegant hand reached toward the box, the lint swarming around her warm living flesh. She carefully cradled the box with both hands, fearful of dropping it due to her sudden shaking.

It was beautiful with its ornate engraving, geometrically complex. Sakaki imagined it wasn't built, but carved out of a block of wood, even the lever for opening it being part of the same block. This is incredible, she thought, as she rotated the box in her hand as carefully as if she was working on one of her animal patients. There's the lever!

She shivered, and wondered if she should open it.

"What are you doing with my box?"

Sakaki looked up, and saw the apparition of a floating cat, his eyes swirling like vortexes. Chiyo's dad! "Um, sorry, I'll put it back."

"Don't put it back!" Chiyo-chichi said. "It's wrong to turn down a gift." His skin changed to swathes of black and white, morphing into dizzying patterns like waves in a pool. "You should see what's inside. I made it just for you."

"Th-thank you," Sakaki said, bowing.

"Yes, thank me, because it's a gift I made. Now OPEN IT."

Sakaki pressed the lever.

...

Tomo was being followed again, and she was sick of it.

Barely a week had gone by since Yuka assaulted her in public, and now she had to deal with another stalker. It was late afternoon on Saturday, and Tomo was making her way to Osaka's taqueria (this time a literal taqueria, as the airflow trailer was too small to make additional items). Saturday was always the slow day, considering the business and government offices, which supplied the majority of the taqueria's customers, were closed or had minimal staff. Tomo and Osaka took turns opening the taqueria for the day, and it was Osaka's turn today. First, though, Tomo had to lose this stalker.

Tomo made a sharp right turn through an alley that led to a tiny park in the middle of a block, surrounded by old apartment buildings. She didn't expect to lose whoever was following her, but at least she didn't have to worry about an audience.

The park was a patch of grass, two Japanese magnolia trees, and a picnic bench. No one was there, and Tomo positioned herself so that she could run in case she was attacked. She would've run normally, but she was in a bad mood and wanted a confrontation.

The woman following her appeared around the corner. She was wearing a blue t-shirt that didn't hide her large breasts, and her tan face scowled at Tomo.

"Yeah, I knew you were following me!" Tomo shouted. Her next insult died as a gasp, and her body ran cold.

"I want to know something, Takino," Kagura's scratchy voice, once containing a sweet drop of honey, was now hot with anger that had been simmering for years. She marched up to Tomo. "I wanna know what kinda thug God is that lets you get away with everything, and makes the rest of us suffer."

...

**A/N: **I wanted to write a lingering denouement instead of an epilogue. The next chapter will be long, and it will be the last.

I'm currently going through the previous chapters and cleaning up some plot problems, like abandoned subplots that didn't go anywhere (such as Tomo suspecting Osaka of forging Aya Suzuki's suicide note). I'm also cleaning up the timeline a bit – I got some of the dates and time elapsed wrong. There aren't any major changes that require a re-read.

I want to thank everyone that has stuck with this story. It means a lot to me that you all have been so patient.


	38. Chapter 38

In the shade of a Japanese magnolia blighted with overripe purple blossoms, growing amongst abandoned apartment buildings boarded up and consigned for destruction (a banking conglomerate had bought the land), Kagura faced Tomo with clenched fists and a hate that could be seen from outer space.

"I wanna know why you did it, Tomo," Kagura said. She lacked a tan and had grown her spikey hair down to her shoulders. Tomo guessed that she still went swimming, though, based on the muscular calves standing firm in her blue shorts, and the well-toned curve of her biceps. Tomo felt a surprising relief that Kagura still kept herself in shape, even after her terrible injury.

All right, Tomo thought, let's try to defuse this. She smiled with her whole face and said, "Hi, Kagura, it's good to see you again."

"Well, it's not good to see you!" Kagura shouted. "I don't even wanna see you! But I had to, because you need to get what's coming to ya."

Tomo held out her arms and grinned. "What, a hug?"

Kagura growled and lunged at Tomo, a well-prepared fist coming at her like a haymaker from hell. It was a powerful punch delivered from too far a distance to be a surprise, and Tomo, her nerves blasting like sparks from a faulty power line, quickly dodged the punch. Their movement smashed the fallen magnolia blossoms below their feet, and the sickly and decadent perfume of the dead blossoms filled the air. Okay, plan A is a disaster, Tomo thought. Pretending nothing happened was a terrible idea after all.

"Don't talk to me like... like I'm retarded! I know I'm slow, but I don't deserve to be treated like a child by some demon bitch like you!"

Kagura circled around Tomo like a tiger on the hunt, her shoulders relaxed and her stance balanced for a quick death strike. Tomo kept her chin down and watched the upper part of Kagura's chest.

"You're right," Tomo said, not even getting angry at the insult. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I broke your leg."

"Shut up!" Kagura roared, and a terrible punch built from the power of her stance sprung out toward Tomo's gut. Tomo jumped back and felt the tips of Kagura's knuckles tap her sternum. Tomo clenched her teeth and realized she was in deep trouble – it was a whiffed punch, and it still hurt. "You didn't break my leg, you broke my life! I couldn't compete anymore, and it's your fault!"

"Kagura!" Tomo said, holding up her hands and trying not to rub the pain out of her chest. "I'm begging you, don't fight me!"

"I don't want to fight you, I want to beat you until you can't move! Just try to run, I'll come after you!"

"I'm not going to run," Tomo said. "But why now, huh? Why now!"

"Chiyo told me where to find you."

Tomo, who had successfully shaped her face to appear as placating as possible, now let it warp into sudden anger. "Chiyo," she said with a darkening frown. I bet she sent Yuka over here too.

Kagura squinted at Tomo's change in appearance. "What are you getting all mad for? Chiyo didn't do anything to you!"

"Oh, you have no idea," Tomo said, staring into Kagura. "So you're just going to let yourself be used by her, huh?"

Kagura took a swift move forward with a left hook straight to Tomo's jaw. Tomo moved too late to completely dodge the punch, and held up a hand to block it.

"Ow!" Tomo shouted as the punch crunched against her palm, pushing it into her face. "Quit hitting me dammit! You're pissing me off!"

"Stop thinking you can talk this out, Tomo! If you were so sorry, you'd have tried to tell me years ago!"

"You never wanted to see me again! You'd probably just try to hit me like you are now!"

"So? You should have tried anyway!"

Deciding the only good defense was a good offense, Tomo quickly rushed Kagura and used the momentum to drag her to the ground. Tomo fought to flip Kagura on her back, so as to get her in a choke hold, and they rolled around on the ripe, recently fallen leaves. Neither could gain a firm footing as the slippery leaves were rendered into a heady smelling paste by their struggle.

Kagura easily threw the smaller Tomo away from her, but Tomo was quick to scramble and reattach herself to Kagura. Tomo squirmed until she was able to get on Kagura's back, wrapped her legs around her hips, and tried to start a rear naked choke, but Kagura jerked her head back and butted Tomo in the mouth with such force that Tomo swore her jaw caved in.

The shock of pain weakened Tomo's grip, and Kagura elbowed Tomo in the ribs. Tomo immediately jumped away with a pained grunt, and Kagura was back on her feet.

"You're sorry, huh? You jump me like that? If you're really sorry, why don't you stand there and take your punishment!"

"You don't understand, Kagura," Tomo said, working her jaw a few times in an ill-advised attempt to get the pain out. "I can't ever let myself get beat up again, okay? Never! Anything else you want to do, I'll do it, but not this!"

Kagura huffed and began circling Tomo again, while Tomo tried to stay out of her reach. The decayed sent of magnolia blossoms was making Tomo dizzy, and she knew facing Kagura in that state was unwise. She was just too tough and too strong for Tomo to take. But it was unlikely Kagura would let herself get taken to the ground again – Tomo had to find another way. Her huge, maniacal grin made Kagura pause in distrust.

"Hey Kagura, want to see a neat trick?"

"Huh?"

Tomo turned and ran away. She zoomed out of the enclave and tore down the sidewalk, dodging annoyed pedestrians as she pushed herself to reach Osaka's taqueria. She felt a mix of shameful emotions knowing that she was using Osaka as protection, and that any reunion between Osaka and Kagura would be debased because of the fight. I can't just stand and take it, Tomo thought, as her shoes thudded against the concrete. She took a shortcut through the eastern section of Hibiya Park. I'm just dragging other people into it, and I'm not stopping Kagura – I'm just putting it off so she can attack me again.

And yet, Tomo did not stop running. Despite thinking of letting Kagura get her revenge, allowing herself to ever become that helpless again was so anathema to what she now was that it could never be overturned by thoughts of appeasement.

At a rarely used exit of Hibiya Park, Tomo could see, across the avenue, the grey airflow trailer sitting on the (formerly) abandoned patch of ground, a measly fifty square meter plot that cost Alekhine nearly ten million yen to purchase – and it was a gift, not a loan (this selfless act endeared him to Tomo, although begrudgingly). The plot itself was once bigger, but road construction and building expansions shaved off sections of it until it was considered too small to be useful for business purposes, even in a city known for using every square meter of space. Tomo kept her pace as quick as she could, too afraid to look behind her. She was flooded with happiness when she recognized Torako (or at least her back) sitting on a stool at the counter, talking to a laughing Osaka.

From behind, Kagura locked her arms around Tomo's waist and let her weight bring her to the ground. Tomo fell face first and fought to get out from under the ferocious strength pushing her down. Kagura flipped her over.

"Did you really think you could outrun me?" Kagura said, as she brought a fist down to smash Tomo in the face. Tomo rolled out of the way and tried to block with her hand, but the fist slipped through and hit her in the neck. Tomo yelped in pain.

Kagura grabbed Tomo's wrists and pinned them to the ground.

"Rape!" Tomo shouted.

"Wh-what! No it isn't!" Kagura said, and that distraction was enough for Tomo to break out of Kagura's grip. She grabbed Kagura's head with both hands and jerked, flinging her away. Tomo felt a dull flame burn into her upper back.

"Gah!" Tomo shouted, as she jumped from the ground, the burn spreading into her shoulders. Great, I've pulled something, Tomo thought. She didn't dare turn around to run toward the taqueria. Kagura had recovered and was rushing her again.

Tomo leapt forward and grabbed Kagura in a great bear hug, pinning her arms to her sides. Once again, the two fell to the ground.

"Let go of me you dope!" Kagura said, as she struggled in Tomo's grip. It was only a matter of time before Tomo was overpowered, and Tomo knew it.

"Kagura," Tomo groaned, "You still... have... enormous hooters."

"Shut up about that!" Kagura shouted. She slipped her hands out of Tomo's hug. Tomo was too close and squirmy for Kagura to get a good strike in, so she tried pushing Tomo away by inserting as much force as her poor leverage would allow. Tomo felt her back burning and grip weakening, so she quickly released Kagura and scrambled to get away.

Kagura reached out and grabbed Tomo's shirt, pulling her to the ground, face first once again. Tomo felt the muggy hot air across her back as the shirt was pulled up to her head. Kagura gasped and let go, jumping away.

Tomo got up again, this time a little slower as the pain from her various injuries were interfering with her concentration, as if they were a prophet screaming her doom. Tomo let her shirt fall naturally as she held up her hands in preparation of another attack. Instead, she saw Kagura gaping at her in stunned confusion.

"What?" Tomo said.

"Your back," Kagura said. "All those scars. What did you do?"

"I got beat, Kagura," Tomo spat. "Chained down and whipped like I was a criminal, like in the old days! You understand why I'm not gonna stand here and take a beating from you?"

Kagura's expression was hard, and her voice still had its sting. Her body, though, had relaxed. "I had no idea."

"Well you didn't ask!"

"Kagura," Osaka said. Tomo turned around and saw Osaka and Torako standing behind her, Torako keeping her expression neutral while Osaka looked back and forth between Tomo and Kagura. She sat her gaze on Kagura, and her eyes seemed to moisten. "You couldn't hold it in, huh?"

"I had to do it," Kagura said, scowling. "It just kept eating at me, and I couldn't hold it in."

"Wait wait wait," Tomo said to Osaka. "You two already got back together?"

"I tried lookin' up everybody when I got back to Japan," Osaka said. "Kagura didn't seem all that happy to see me around, though, so I don't get to see her as much as I want to."

"It's not like that," Kagura said, looking away. "I just had a bunch of stuff to deal with. Like this shrimp!" She scowled angrily at Tomo. "Don't think it's over, okay? We still need to settle this!"

"Ha! How about you do it now?" Tomo said, thrusting her face forward and clenching her fists. "Now I got backup!"

"Backup? From who? Ms. Ditzy and Stringbean? No offense."

"None taken," Osaka said. Torako remained motionless and silent.

"Besides, I'm not talking about a fight. I don't want to do that."

"Well of course you wouldn't," Tomo said, "now that you know I can take you down whenever I feel like it."

"Whatever," Kagura said. "I'm through with you for now. I got other business to attend to."

Tomo gasped. "You better not mean Sakaki!"

"So what if I do? How is that any of your business?"

"I'll make it my business! You better not lay a finger on her!"

Kagura reeled back. "I'm not going to hurt her!"

"Oh yeah? Maybe we should tag along just to make sure."

"Maybe not today!" Kagura said. "Maybe it'll be some other day when I go see her! Can't follow me then, huh?"

"You-!"

"This is getting us nowhere," Torako said, her surly voice silencing the growls coming from the two adversaries. She faced Kagura, who scowled back. "Where can we find and talk to Chiyo?"

"Why?" Kagura asked.

"Why!" Tomo shouted. She eyed Torako suspiciously.

Torako looked at Tomo's expression, crouched with fearful suspicion and ready to jump into anger. Torako cleared her throat. "I guess it doesn't matter. Never mind."

Tomo reached out and grabbed Torako's bare arm, squeezing her elbow. "You're still working on that case, aren't you?"

Torako gently took hold of Tomo's hand, and peeled it off her elbow before letting it drop. "I want to make sure we aren't going to be harassed by her in the future. I want accounts cleared between us. Her telling Kagura where you are makes me suspicious."

"Eh, I'll let her know," Kagura said. "Assuming I see her anytime soon."

"Kagura, listen," Tomo said. "I don't know what you want with Sakaki, but you got to believe me that she never, ever meant to ruin your leg!"

"What would you know about that?" Kagura said, her voice reaching dangerous decibels. "As far as I'm concerned, she's just as guilty as you are!"

"No she's not! She misses you! That's the most shameful episode of her life! Please forgive her!"

"Don't tell me what to do," Kagura said. She backed away. "And don't follow me either. I'll take you down harder if I have to." Kagura turned and ran away through the park.

"Bye Kagura!" Osaka said, waving. "It was nice seeing you again!"  
Kagura spared a split second to turn and wave back. She wore a genuine smile that hurt Tomo's heart to see. She turned on Osaka.

"So, were you ever going to tell me?"

"Don't get mad at her!" Kagura shouted, cupping her hands over her mouth. "I made her promise not to tell you!"

"Go away already!" Tomo shouted back. Kagura flipped her off and tore away from the three, her body shrinking over the horizon before being hidden by trees.

Tomo reeled on Osaka. "I'm still mad at you!"

"What?" Osaka said. She became what could be called 'cross', although it was still too strong a word for whatever emotion was showing on her face. "Well, I'm mad at you too, Tomo."

"What? What right do you have to be mad at me?"

"'Cuz you're mad at me. It's only fair that I be mad at you too."

"No it isn't!" Tomo said. "I'm mad at you for a reason! Going out and seeing Kagura behind my back!"

"Well, I'm mad at you for mixin' a whole buncha perfume samples together and thinkin' it smells good."

"It was the magnolia- wait, where's Torako?"

Osaka looked around, and spotted Torako heading back to the taqueria. "Wow, I guess she just walked away," Osaka said.

Tomo scowled. "She just left us? Now I'm mad at her!"

"Yeah, I'm mad at her too!" Osaka said.

Torako made it to a stool in front of the taqueria, turning it around to face Osaka and Tomo as they walked from the park. Tomo had a noticeable wince each time she took a step, and she kept her upper torso unnaturally sniff.

"Where are you hurt?" Torako said

"We're mad at you, Torako," Osaka said.

"Go be mad at yourself," Torako said. She left the stool and looked Tomo over, though everyone knew she couldn't tell what was wrong by looks alone. "What's hurting you?"

"I hurt my back trying to get that wacko off of me," Tomo said. "My jaw hurts too. Actually, my whole body hurts."

"Need a doctor?"

"Naw, I'll just take some pain killers or whatever."

"Hmm," Torako said. "Be careful. I don't want you to have any hairline fractures or anything."

"It's okay Torako, just a little pain."

Torako sighed and looked toward the parking lot behind the Ministry of Transportation building, even though she couldn't see it. "Look," she said, turning her gaze back to Tomo. "Let's go see Sakaki."

"Sure... why?"

"She could massage some of that pain out of your back."

Tomo snorted. "Oh, looking out for my wellbeing, huh? It couldn't possibly have anything to do with Kagura trying to go see her. And besides, why don't you massage me instead?"

"Sakaki's trained, I'm not. And maybe we need to spill the beans about Chiyo."

"Torako, I agree Sakaki needs to know," Tomo said, "but it's not like me and Osaka can drop everything to go over there."

"You say my name?" Osaka said, as she locked the airflow trailer and put up the closed sign.

Tomo sighed. "Yeah, okay, let's go."

...

Torako drove her Fiat to Sakaki's clinic while Osaka and Tomo tried calling her – Tomo to her cell and Osaka to her office – to warn her about Kagura, but no answer left them both worried. Osaka couldn't reach her on her home line, either.

They were relieved to see Sakaki standing outside of her office. They were confused to see the almost mindless smile glazed across her face.

"We're mad at you, Sakaki," Osaka said. She was elbowed by Tomo.

"Sakaki? You okay?" Tomo asked.

Sakaki moved her gaze to Tomo and her smile became lush and heavenly. "I am, thanks to you."

"Me?"

"You sent Kagura over here to see me." Sakaki approached Tomo, Tomo thinking she was going to bow. Instead, Sakaki wrapped Tomo in her arms and hugged her close. Torako maintained her stoic demeanor, but she was bugging out on the inside.

"Thank you Tomo, thank you so much."

"Mffphg mpfhff," Tomo said. Sakaki released her and Tomo gasped for air. "Wow. Uh... you're welcome? I guess she didn't try to beat you up?"

"Not at all," Sakaki said. "We made up. She said it was because you told her how sorry I was about what happened. She was too ashamed to see me. Me! Even after what I did to her. She was ashamed because of how she treated me in the hospital, so long ago. But it's all been put to rest."

Sakaki jerked. "Oh, I'm sorry! Osaka, Torako, it'd good to see you." She bowed, and the two returned her bow.

...

Sakaki noticed Tomo's pain before they brought it up, and offered to massage it away for her. The four went inside the clinic, now closed for the day, and idled around in the waiting room as Sakaki worked into Tomo. Tomo sat upright in one of the chairs, sitting sideways so Sakaki could have a good angle of attack to her back, and made immodest noises as Sakaki sent the pain away.

"You know, I was about to do something stupid," Sakaki said.

Tomo could barely speak a coherent sentence through the pleasure pouring into her body. "Oh...really?"

"That's another thing I owe you, Tomo. Kagura showing up when she did – it saved me."

Tomo managed a muffled "That's nice" in between moans.

"Saved you how?" Osaka said.

The pressure Sakaki was applying to Tomo let up just slightly. "Kagura interrupted me... it's hard to explain. It's almost like it wasn't real. I experienced lost time as well."

"That happens to me a lot," Osaka said.

Sakaki turned to Torako. "I think it was that box you warned me about."

"Box? What box?" Tomo managed to say.

"Alekhine," Torako grumbled. "Something he told me about when I saw him at the Kantei." Her head lowered as she stared at the white tile floor, its glossy waxed surface reflecting the overhead light. "Thought it was his typical gibberish. Guess not."

Osaka patted her on the shoulder, and Torako forced her body to not rebel against Osaka's comfort. There was a lull in the conversation, and the four heard nothing but the cicadas outside and Tomo's occasional moan of pleasure.

"How did you pull a muscle here?" Sakaki said.

"Kagura attacked her," Torako said. Sakaki stopped massaging, eliciting noises of disappointment from Tomo.

"I see," Sakaki said. She let out a gentle sigh and continued her massage. "She didn't tell me that."

"I don't think it'll happen again," Tomo said. She let out a slow exhalation, full of pleasure and happiness. "I hope we can talk again, just talk, you know?

"Me too, Tomo," Sakaki said. "I'll bring you up when I see Kagura again."

"I hate to put a damper on your good day," Torako said, "but there's something we've been keeping from you that you need to know."

Sakaki nodded. "May we not talk about it here?"

"Sure," Torako said. "I know a decent bar we can go to after this."

After the massage was finished, Sakaki handed Tomo her t-shirt and grimaced. "What perfume are you wearing?" she said.

...

Tokyo, like most old cities built and rebuilt constantly through the ages, had an abundance of bizarrely modeled streets that grew and died based on what was built or destroyed in any one space. A person could see his destination towering above him and attempt to reach it by entering what looked like the most direct path, but would find himself constantly circling around through phantom streets and mysteriously grown alleyways, never reaching that taunting target.

There was a tiny bar in the midst of one of these urban labyrinths. It had no name, and its exterior was only a pine door, with fading varnish cracking with age, and a green welcome mat that had withered from overexposure to uncaring feet and capricious weather.

Inside was a bar whose size would barely pass as a walk-in closet in a diva's mansion. Three tiny round tables could sit four people each, and the actual bar was standing room only. Claustrophobes would have to stay away, and its small size meant memberships were by invitation only.

Torako's membership was through invitation by Alekhine, with whom she had developed a weirdly antagonistic friendship since leaving prison. She kept this fact to herself while the four friends seated themselves at one of the empty tables. Four was always the limit to any walk-in groups, and while Torako had membership, her friends could only ever come with her.

The layout of drinks and beer on tap was as substantial as a place this small could handle, and so food was limited to onigiri with umeboshi filling, and edamame. The group ordered servings of both as they made their drink orders – a big pitcher of beer from _Chance Get,_ a neighborhood brewery, for Tomo, Torako, and Osaka, while Sakaki ordered an old-fashioned. The bartender was a slim woman of forty-five, dressed in a bartending suit (black vest with orange pinstripes, orange silk tie over a white dress shirt and black dress slacks) made to fit her ethereal frame.

"How did you ever find this place?" Tomo said, looking at the mahogany wall cluttered with black and white pictures of different people's backs. "It seems too artsy for you."

"Just did," Torako said. "Didn't think I'd like it either, but the owner knows what she's doing." She took an onigiri for herself in the hope that Tomo wouldn't ask her to elaborate; maybe a mouth full of food would let her stall for time.

"These pictures are very interesting," Sakaki said, surveying the spread.

"It's the membership roster," Torako said. "Mine is right over there." Alekhine's was on here too, but Torako figured that maybe only Osaka would recognize it – and her back was to it at the moment.

They chatted for awhile, drinking and eating, three of them trying to find just the right time to discuss Chiyo. Sakaki made it for them.

She put down her drink and faced Torako. "I believe you had something you wanted to tell me."

"Yes," Torako said. "It's about Chiyo."

Sakaki shifted in her seat, her glance taking in Tomo and Osaka. "I see," she said.

"I think maybe I should start," Tomo said.

...

Tomo had finished telling the story of Chiyo meeting her in the apartment, leaving out some of the more embarrassing details. Sakaki got the point of it though, and she kept her head down, her hair shadowing her face. Tomo half expected a tear to fall down her cheek, but none showed up.

"Chiyo," Sakaki said. "What happened to you?"

"I'm sorry Sakaki," Tomo said, "but I think it was me that happened to her."

"No," Sakaki said, facing Tomo full on. She slowly shook her head. "She made her own decisions to be what she is. Never think you had something to do with that."

Tomo nodded. What Sakaki said was true, but she couldn't fight her feelings.

"I overheard her at the meeting between Mr. Mainichi and Zhang Ping. I think she knew I was there, listening, the way she brought up Asagi," Torako said. She moved her slow gaze to Osaka, who was pouring more beer into her glass. "Alekhine was the one who told me about them meeting there. I guess that's why he broke into that office to talk to you, Tomo."

"He didn't say much of anything," Tomo grumbled.

"I'm starting to wonder if he worked with Chiyo to get me to listen in to their conversation, to listen to Chiyo try to turn the conversation to Asagi's murder. It sounded like she was trying to implicate Zhang Ping in the mess."

"Well, it's a good thing all that stuff is behind us!" Tomo said, loudly enough that the bartender paused her conversation with a standing patron to stare at their table. "We don't have to work on it anymore! Ha ha!" She nudged Torako. "Right, Torako?"

"I'm not working on it," Torako said, rubbing the side of her body where she was assaulted by Tomo's pointy elbow. "Just airing out some facts about Chiyo."

"She met up with me, too," Osaka said. "She got Alekhine to set it up, Torako. She was tellin' me that they were spending an awful lot of time trying to track me down. I kinda wanted that, so they wouldn't be after you too. She also tried to tell me what happened with Tomo and them at her beach house, but I already knew that stuff." Osaka waved her hand dismissively, hitting the beer glass in front of her.

"I'm probably just being paranoid," Torako said, using a dreaded term in an attempt to wrap up that part of the conversation. What was important right now was Sakaki's feelings.

Osaka preempted her. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this, Sakaki. We could hardly bring ourselves to tell ya."

"It's okay," Sakaki said. "Please don't think you have to protect me. I'm an adult; I can take heartbreak."

Osaka couldn't help but let escape a coo of sympathy.

Sakaki took a sip of her drink. "I would like to hear more about your detective work. If- if it's not too traumatic."

Torako eyed Tomo. "I can talk about it."

Tomo nodded. "Me too. Some stuff I'm going to leave out."

Sakaki finished her old-fashioned during Tomo and Torako's discourse about their line of work. It was illuminating as well as myth shattering.

...

"I've always wondered how you two are able to piece together a trail based on the minimum of clues," Sakaki said. She took a sip of her green tea, forgoing any more alcohol because it disagreed with her medication.

"We had training in that, but it didn't go that way at all," Tomo said. "Real life detective work isn't like those detective manga."

"Pretty much," Torako said. "All it is, is asking questions. You ask all the suspects to tell their stories; the same with the witnesses. You combine them together and see where things don't add up. Then you ask more questions, pointed questions, maybe sometimes you have to be hard-headed about it."

"Torako liked getting a hammer and breaking people's fingers," Tomo said.

"I never did that."

Osaka took a sip of her beer. "She who makes a beast of herself gets rid of the pain of being a woman."

Torako raised an eyebrow at Osaka before continuing. "That's all it is, Sakaki. We jam all the lies people told together until we make a half-truth that works best. After that, it's up to the judges and lawyers to settle actual questions of guilt and punishment."

"That's not at all how I envisioned it," Sakaki said. "I thought there would be more..."

"The angle and intensity of the scorch marks on this grocery receipt prove Captain Tokugawa killed himself with napalm purchased from Mishima's flatware factory!" Tomo said.

Osaka took a sip of her beer. "There is only one serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide."

"That's close, Tomo," Sakaki said. "Perhaps I've read too many Zenigata Heiji stories."

"Forensics come into it, yeah," Tomo said. "That's where we get our leads. But unless the criminal confesses – and they usually confess without any prompting on our end – all the best crime reconstruction means nothing unless it shows us the people we need to be talking too."

"That's a lot to think about," Sakaki said, her hands in her lap as she looked at the stem floating in her teacup. "It's almost as if... as if justice or truth doesn't come into it."

Tomo smiled. "Well, questioning the righteousness of our work, eh Sakaki? We need to get you out drinking more often!"

Sakaki gasped. "I'm sorry!" she said, bowing.

"Don't listen to her," Torako said, giving Tomo the evil eye. "That was something drilled into me when I was training to take over as Tomo's partner – we can't find the truth, just stories about the truth. The stories are usually wrong, or at least never correct."

"When I was at the academy, I was told to use the law to help us find the way," Tomo said. "Isn't that corny? Of course, I was kind of an outcast there – I didn't 'sufficiently respect rule of law', as some teacher marked on my report."

"I'd be lying if I said I respect the law any," Torako said. "It's just a tool, and sometimes it gets in the way."

"Heh heh," Tomo said. "Kazumi would rage at you for saying that."

"Yeah," Torako said. She took a sip of her beer. She wanted to lay her head on the table, but she wouldn't dare worry her friends. "I'm using my own definitions of ethical behavior, or "right" and "wrong" actions. The law is useful, but we don't see eye-to-eye sometimes. Especially parts that may have come from religious beliefs." Torako leaned back in her chair, and sighed. "As if I have any right to decide right and wrong."

Osaka took a sip of her beer. "Ever since we dispensed with God, we have no one but ourselves to explain this meaningless horror of life."

"All right, that's enough!" Tomo said, leaning over to grab Osaka's beer glass. "No more for you!"

Torako cocked an eyebrow and viewed Osaka with trepidation. "Is she always like this when she drinks?"

"I like beer," Osaka said. She broke into giggles.

...

Torako handed her car keys to the bartender as the group decided they had enough, and headed toward the bus stop. The night swell of heat and humidity as they left the bar was smothering, even at this late hour. Tomo and Osaka, arms over shoulders, sang popular songs while walking to the bus stop, mangling the lyrics until they were either about perverse sex acts (Tomo) or bodily functions (Osaka). Sakaki, who walked behind them, blushed deeply at Tomo's contributions, something Tomo noticed and relished with great pride.

"You okay Sakaki?" Torako said. Sakaki had taken several stumbling steps, and Torako had to move over once to intercept her from becoming intimate with the sidewalk.

"That drink," she said, "was stronger than I thought. I don't think it agrees with my medication."

"It'll take a while to get back to your house," Torako said. "Don't know if I want you going there alone. Come stay with me tonight. Can't be too careful."

"Thank you, Torako," Sakaki said. "I'd like that."

Tomo pestered Torako during the bus ride, since Sakaki was obviously not feeling well, and Osaka was too busy staring off into space. Torako felt dizzy herself, and Tomo's babbling was shooting swirling vortexes into her mind. She clamped Tomo's mouth shut with her hand, hoping to stem the unwanted deluge of chatter. Tomo, to Torako's surprise, took the hint and stayed quiet for the duration of the bus ride.

The bus stop was only meters away from Torako's house. She let Sakaki lean on her as they approached the front door, where Torako took out her orphaned house key. Her hair stood on the back of her neck, so she turned around to see Osaka and Tomo right behind her.

"Hi," Osaka said, waving.

"Don't you guys have your own place to stay?" Torako said.

"But it's a slumber party," Osaka said.

"I'm just here to make sure you don't take advantage of Sakaki!" Tomo said. Her insufferable grin was destroyed by Sakaki's cold, hard glare – the one antidote that always cured Tomo's mischief making.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean anything!" Tomo said.

"I didn't either," Sakaki said with a smile. Tomo laughed in surprise. Sakaki messing with me? Man, we do need to get her drinking more often!

They entered Torako's tightly compact home, purchased with settlement money awarded due to her father's wrongful death. They sloughed off their shoes – Sakaki having to sit down and fumble with hers – before entering the main living area.

"Ugh, why is it still hot in here! Turn on the AC," Tomo said, fanning herself with her shirt.

"No central AC, remember?" Torako said. "I have the windows open, but I guess there's not enough crosswind coming in."

"You're so cheap, Torako," Tomo said. "How the heck are we going to keep cool?"

"How do you think?" Torako said, as she took off her t-shirt, knowing it wasn't going to end well – part of the reason why she wanted Tomo to go home.

"Only sluts don't wear bras," Tomo said, before taking off her own shirt.

"Like I have any use for a bra," Torako muttered. After taking off her pants, Torako entered her hallway and opened the closet door. She grabbed several futons, pleased to see Osaka behind her grabbing pillows. "Sakaki, my bedroom has an AC unit if you'd like to sleep there."

"Thank you, but I'm fine," Sakaki said. She fumbled with the buttons on her blouse as she sat on the tatami.

"You gonna be okay, Sakaki?" Osaka said. "Do we need to get ya something?"

Sakaki smiled. "Don't worry about me. Sometimes I have to be reminded why I shouldn't drink alcohol. It's happened before, so don't be alarmed." Torako took Sakaki's blouse, dress, and lacey black bra and hung them up for her. Torako thought it a pretty brave move for Sakaki to go topless with a drunk Tomo in the room, but Sakaki was a little inebriated herself. Probably not thinking straight. Sakaki made due with her cotton panties (where she kept finding adult-sized panties with kitten patterns was a mystery).

Torako pushed open the shoji facing the back yard, glad that there was a slight breeze coming into the tatami room now. A high concrete wall (theoretically) prevented voyeuristic neighbors from peeping in, but she wasn't worried about that happening anyway.

"I'll put some new toothbrushes in the guest bathroom," Torako said.

...

Sakaki lay on the futon Torako and Osaka set up, but with her eyes open. Osaka, who hadn't disrobed at all, sat in front of the television, preparing to play a game. Torako decided she wasn't that sleepy either, so she checked the tuning of her Epiphone Casino (the paint had been stripped off, which was why she was able to get it so cheaply secondhand) before playing chords.

"Yuck," Tomo said, standing over Osaka as she played _Super Metroid _on a Super Famicom hooked up to the old CRT television. "Why don't you get a new TV?"

"This one still works," Torako said. "It was used, so I didn't have to pay much for it."

"Figures," Tomo said. She moved her futon next to Torako and lay down on it. She was playing a game on her phone, muting it while listening to Torako string chords together to make a song. Sakaki turned her head and watched Torako play. Yeah, no pressure at all, Torako thought.

The conversation at the bar earlier that night continued swirling through Torako's head, dropping pieces and shuffling ideas. Torako, eventually, put aside her guitar and lay down on her own futon.

"Great," Tomo said, continuing to play her game. "Somebody's thinking."

"Yeah," Torako said.

"Go ahead and spill it."

"Get ready to hate me."

"I hate you already."

Torako smiled at this, and rolled over on her side, propping her head up on her elbow. "Well-."

"Hold on. Could you put a shirt on first? Your breasts are distracting me."

Torako raised an eyebrow. "I thought I didn't have any breasts."

"Your nipples, then."

Torako roused herself. "You need to get over your breast fetish. I'll get a shirt."

"It's not a fetish!" Tomo shouted after her. "I just like boobs! That doesn't mean I'm gay!"

The things people admit to when they're drunk, Torako thought. "No one's saying you are," Torako said loudly from her bathroom, using a wet cloth to clean the perspiration from her body. "You sure are defensive about that."

"Cuz you keep thinking it! And you're not better than us just because your nipples are pink!"

"Czech side," Torako said as she entered the room, this time wearing a plain black t-shirt. She sat on her futon, curling one leg under her knee while the other spread to the edge of the futon. Tomo was sitting cross-legged on hers. "Now, do you want to keep talking about my breasts, or can I tell you what I wanted to tell you?"

With a grin, Tomo put down her phone and reached forward, tweaking Torako's nipple with her finger and thumb. Torako thrust both hands forward and clamped Tomo's nipples through her bra.

"Argh!" Tomo shouted, as her remaining hand grabbed Torako's left nipple. "Let go!"

"You let go," Torako said through gritted teeth. The two stood up, both twisting and trying to move away from the other. They groaned under the exertion. Sakaki pushed herself up and scooted to the far corner, inadvertently holding her arms in front of her own breasts in sympathetic pain at the struggle. Osaka continued shooting rippers, wondering how many shots it would take to kill the floating insectoid platform.

"Okay, okay!" Tomo shouted. "We'll let go at the same time!"

"You better not be playing a trick on me," Torako said.

"On the count of three! One… two… three!"

They both released their death grip. Tomo groaned as she rubbed her sore nipples. Torako tried to keep from rubbing hers, but she gave in, and as modestly as possible, comforted her own groaning breasts.

"I'm going to sit over here," Torako said, sitting at the far edge of the room.

"Don't flatter yourself, flatty," Tomo said as she sat back down on her futon. "Flatty flat flat. I only did that because I feel sorry for you."

"I'm sure."

Tomo didn't want to, but she had to laugh now that the endorphins were flowing through her. "You know, you would have knocked me out if I did that in the past."

"Yeah," Torako said. "I guess I tolerate a lot more from you now than I used to. Besides, you needed a taste of your own medicine."

"Gah!" Tomo shouted, standing up and pointing at her. "I knew you were a pervert! Don't take out your sick urges on me!"

Torako waved her away. "Settle down, Tomo. Now, are you ready to hear this or not?"

Tomo plopped back down on her futon, and let out an exhausted breath. "So, is it about our old case?"

"Kinda," Torako said. "It has to do with Aya Suzuki's suicide letter. You know and I know that it was fake."

"Check," Tomo said, nodding.

"Theory: Alekhine forged it."

"He did what?" Osaka said, turning from her game. She hit the start button to pause it and scooted over to the edge of Tomo's futon. "Why'd he do that for?"

"We're just guessing here," Torako said. "What that letter did was give Tomo a way out when she woke up next to Miruchi. A suicide letter confessing to drugging a police investigator, and killing her alleged former lover? Even revealing the location of the murder weapon? That was all that was needed to clear Tomo, as far as the police were concerned. No one even bothered to dig deeply into the claims of the suicide note, or even double check that Aya was killed."

"I wonder if she was poisoned," Tomo said. "And then had her wrists cut."

"Alekhine wouldn't do that!" Osaka said.

"I agree," Torako said. She glanced at Osaka's paused game and squinted. "What are you playing?"

"_Super Metroid."_

Torako blinked. "Is that the Sistine Chapel?"

"I don't know how I got to that level," Osaka said.

"Hmm. Well, the suicide letter, as far as I'm concerned-"

"Ha ha!" Tomo said, jabbing a finger at Torako. "Trying to change the subject!"

"Trying to get back on subject. As I was saying, the suicide letter was a separate incident from Aya's actual suicide."

"I think Aya was murdered, too," Tomo said. "Or bullied somehow into killing herself."

"Maybe," Torako said. "It's crossed my mind. The whole question, though, is who would forge a note that helped you? He's the only one I can think of who'd have the connections to do it."

"I guess," Tomo said. "It was wrong of him, though. I guess we could just email him and ask about it, huh? Or shoot him a text."

"Oh, I got a quicker way," Osaka said. She took out her cell phone and scrolled until she found Alekhine's cell phone number, and pressed the call button.

"Tell him to send us more money," Tomo said.

"I'll put it on the speaker thingy," Osaka said, hitting a button. He answered after the first ring.

"Oh God, what!" he shouted in English, over what sounded like the ferocious roar of a car engine.

"Hi Alekhine!" Osaka said in Japanese. "I got Torako and Tomo and Sakaki here, and we need to know somethin'."

"Sweet Tea, awesome, hi everybody," he said. "You guys want to know what I'm wearing?"

"Aya Suzuki," Torako said. "We're trying to figure out who forged her suicide note. Was it you?"

"Hold on," Alekhine said. The four jerked as rapid-fire gunshots spilled out of the tinny speaker into the room. "Well god damn," Alekhine said in English as tires screeched a car to a halt. "The answer is no. I did not, and I don't know who did."

"Next question," Torako said. "Did you have any connection with Chiyo Mihama? Did you talk to her? I'm thinking about when you were trying to get me and Tomo back together."

"Yeah, I spoke at her," Alekhine said, in fragmented bursts. Shoes banged against sidewalk. "Hold on," Alekhine said, and a chainsaw roared into life. A horde of screams invaded Torako's den, and Alekhine began barking – _literally barking_ – as breaking glass and screaming metal obviously tore apart.

"The hell was that lake! Transmission fluid?" Alekhine shouted in English. A faint, quivering voice, a woman's voice, answered him. "Cosmogonic Amniotic Fluid," he repeated. "Sheeeiiitt."

"Alekhine!" Torako shouted.

"Just a second," Alekhine said. The screaming subsided into the distance and a hard metal object – probably the chainsaw – clattered to the ground.

"Okay," Alekhine said in Japanese. "Chiyo wanted you, Torako, to eavesdrop on their little meeting. We knew she was working at cross-purposes against Rain of Terra, so she was probably hoping to get some hot, hot police action against her little group, courtesy of you. Her deal was that she'd convince her group to lay off of Osaka, but we – I mean me and Osaka – didn't want that to begin with."

"Naw," Osaka said.

"I didn't tell her that, of course, so I went ahead and agreed with it – Jesus Christ I want a turkey sandwich right now – agreed with it because I figured I could mess it up somehow. Osaka wanted you and Tomo to make up though, so I tried to arrange Tomo's meeting to be at the same time and spot Chiyo wanted you, Torako, to be there."

"But I saw Chiyo when I was in the café," Tomo said. "That couldn't have been planned."

"Nope, not at all. The optimistic plan was that you and Torako would make up and team together to eavesdrop. We figured Tomo would recognize Chiyo's voice, but that was probably too much hopeful wishing. I would have told you who it was, Tomo, except Chiyo ended up talking to you anyway."

"It made me sad, that you guys didn't make up," Osaka said.

"I was sad once," Alekhine said. "It was sad."

"Is there any other behind-the-scenes stuff you need to be telling us about?" Tomo said. "Involving us?"

"No," Alekhine said. Sirens sounded in the distance, and a clattering followed by rapid steps filtered through the speakers. "Anything else? I miss you guys. That was back when I was sad."

"Well I don't miss you!" Tomo shouted. "I just miss your money, hint, hint."

"Working on it," Alekhine said.

"Thanks for your help," Torako said. "Talk to you later."

"Hey, what's happening over there?" Osaka said, but Tomo lurched forward and ended the call. "Aww".

Torako rubbed her eyes. She pulled her shirt off again – it was too hot, so Tomo would just have to deal – and was too spent to put it up. Alekhine's denial of writing the suicide letter left Torako with little to no options on that part of her old case. "I'm so tired, but I can't go to sleep," she said.

"Sounds like drug problems," Tomo said. She laid back down on her futon and continued playing her game, moving multi-colored bricks onto opposed diamonds. Osaka scooted back in front of the TV and continued her now mangled game. Sakaki laid back down on her futon, not feeling up to join in on the conversation. Torako realized she was staring at her.

"Sorry," she mumbled, looking away.

Sakaki nodded and smiled – a simple gesture to show she wasn't offended. She's way too forgiving of us, Torako thought.

"Dang it," Tomo muttered. She put her phone down and shakily sat up, unhooking her bra and unceremoniously tossing it behind her. "If we all pitched in, would you get a central AC then?"

"Maybe," Torako said. "At least a unit for this room."

"Bleah." Tomo lay back down and continued playing her game. "So... Reiko Tanaka."

Torako sent flyers into her memory, trying to recall the name. "Don't know her."

"That jewelry woman. The one that told us Aya Suzuki was the Tokyo Station payphone caller?"

Torako hiked an eyebrow at Tomo's conversation. Her having anything to do with their old case was surprising, considering how she always tried to change the subject when Torako brought it up. Maybe talking about our detective work changed her mind, Torako thought. It certainly got me talking about it. "What about her?"

"Well, I'm 99% sure Chiyo was the caller, based on what she and Oda Otomo told me. I'm going to make a big guess and say Reiko mislead us on purpose."

"Don't think it was an accidental misidentification?"

"Nope! I think we were set up on purpose. Like Oda was trying to get us to come see him so he could try and get me killed."

"Too elaborate," Torako said. "A paid patsy would have been enough. We might need to look her up," and Torako regretted saying that. This whole case was clearly a trigger of sorts for Tomo's PTSD, something Torako finally realized. What's wrong with me? she thought. I should have seen it earlier. Is she forcing herself to talk about it now, to try to make me feel better?

"Let's see her tomorrow," Tomo said with a swallow. "Ride up to her jewelry store and see what's what."

"I'm in," Osaka said, waving her hand in the air. Sakaki had fallen asleep and so didn't answer, but she was unlikely to join anyway.

"Yeah," Torako said. "I guess we can't stop being investigators, huh?"

Tomo put her phone down and looked up at Torako. "Never. I have to have stuff over people I don't like, so I can annoy them with it."

"And people you do like."

"Yeah, but especially people I don't like. I don't like people who lie to us and use us, Torako. I know, too, that she's still connected to this whole mess about- about Asagi. That still has to get to you."

"Yeah," Torako said, distant.

"It hurts to even lose an ex-lover," Tomo said.

"Yeah," Torako said, and she instantly realized her mistake when Tomo jumped off her futon and pointed at her, eyes wide open.

"Aha!" Tomo teetered a bit, and stomped out a foot to regain her balance.

Torako deflated. "You're overreacting"

"Ahhh ha ha!"

"I'm going to make some tea," Torako grumbled, standing up slowly. Tomo followed behind, her accusing finger straight and pointy like a spear.

"I knew it! Your vastly weakened mental capacities are no match for my clever interrogation techniques!"

"Ass," Torako said, as she walked into her kitchen, a portable fan trying to create some movement of wind. It was a losing battle. Torako grabbed an electronic kettle and placed it under the tap, letting it fill with water. "It's good that you've finally accepted my 'vastly weakened mental capacities', although I should've known you'd be insensitive and tactless about it."

"Don't try to change the subject!" Tomo said, leaning an elbow on the kitchen counter and infecting Torako's peripheral vision with a sickeningly triumphant grin. "I always knew you were a lesbian, Torako. I don't know why you always dodged the issue, it's not like I'd ever give you grief over your deviant and unnatural lifestyle."

Torako closed the top of the kettle while sparing Tomo a glance full of vinegar. "I'm not a lesbian. I'm bisexual."

"Yeah right! There's no such thing as bisexuals, just lesbians that sometimes have sex with men!"

"Where do you hear this crap?" Torako said, as she set the kettle to boil. She sat on the small refrigerator and crossed her arms, staring at Tomo. Might as well go all out, she thought. "I prefer women, though."

"Ahhh!" Tomo shouted, pointing her finger at Torako again. Torako grabbed it and twisted as Tomo shouted and tried to move her body to keep in rhythm with the direction of the twisting. "Let go Torako! I don't want you lesbianing me!

"I really hope you're kidding," Torako said, as she watched Tomo lose her balance, falling to the floor. "It'd make me angry if my best friend believed that crap." Torako let go of Tomo's finger, and waited for Tomo to spring up and continue her tiresome insults. Instead, Tomo lay on the floor and stared up at Torako with an expression approaching deeply moved awe.

"I'm your best friend?" Tomo said in a quiet voice.

Torako squatted next to Tomo and let out an exasperated grunt. "How drunk are you?"

Tomo moved onto her side, propping up her head with her arm. Torako sat down on the faded yellow linoleum and tried to ascertain Tomo's mysterious thought processes. Tomo eventually moved to a cross-legged sitting position. The electronic kettle beeped and turned itself off – its heating mission was complete.

"You know," Tomo said in a subdued voice, "I can tell some changes in you since you got shot. I think you got changed emotionally, too."

"So you're saying I'm psychologically damaged."

"No! I mean… you're a little more open than you use to be. Sometimes when you'd talk in the past, it was just words or fragments to get an idea across, but now it's complete sentences, just about. You're a lot more affectionate too. It's almost un-Japanese, casually touching your friends like you do!"

"You never thought I was much Japanese to begin with."

"Well, yeah, but it seems even more so now. I mean, I know you're Japanese to the core, it's just you're more Torako than Japanese, you know?"

"You're no Yamato nadeshico yourself. Listen," Torako added quickly, before Tomo could interrupt. "I think I told you that I learned to appreciate what I have, instead of what I lost." Torako stood up, and Tomo followed suit. "I wish none of this ever happened, understand? Sitting in that bed, lapsing in and out of consciousness for two weeks, and then having to relearn how to walk – I had a lot of time to think about what I've done. I ruined so many lives because of my pointless… psychotic loyalty to a dead former friend."

"No you didn't."

Torako lifted a hand and counted down. "The chief is dead. Miruchi Inoue is dead. Aya Suzuki is dead, along with a handful of criminals killed to keep us from finding the truth. Kazumi and Hiro are pariahs to the police force, I burned your police career to the ground, Osaka sacrificed her job and protection to help us, and even Alekhine ended up getting himself deported because he was more loyal to her than to his own government. I almost destroyed Sakaki's lifework and caused her to be branded as a criminal – I'm condemned, understand? I have so much to pay for and I don't know if I'll ever be able to. And Rico."

"Stop," Tomo said. "You are not condemned. You were punished just as bad as any of us – maybe worse, and it isn't – your - fault. You did what you're supposed to do, your duty as a police officer, and they turned around and did this to us. Not you; them."

"Yeah. Sorry to be so dramatic about this."

"It's not like you! Usually you're like 'growl growl we just have to deal growl.'"

"Ha. Ha." Torako pulled a teapot from the cabinet, put tealeaves in, and poured hot water. Enough time had passed so that the leaves wouldn't be burned by the water. "If I can be dramatic one more time, I'm shocked you don't hate me."

Tomo took a deep breath. She walked up to Torako and cupped her face in her hands, sending a jolt of surprise into Torako's body. "I love you Torako. I love you more than I can ever tell you, okay? Of course, I hate you now for forcing me to say this corny stuff, but it's all true. Stop beating yourself up over what happened."

Torako took Tomo's hands in hers, and held them as she gazed into Tomo's trembling eyes. "Thank you, Tomo. I love you too… more than anything. Thank you so much."

Tomo leapt forward and pressed her lips against Torako's lips, her bare breasts pressing against Torako's body, her silky mouth closing against Torako's mouth, and her tongue teasingly entered.

She immediately pulled back and gagged. "Ugh!" Tomo shouted, as she spat into the sink. "What the hell was I thinking?"

Torako wiped her mouth with her forearm. "Didn't we already establish that you aren't gay?"

"I know I'm not gay!" Tomo said. She stuck the stout of the tea into her mouth, swishing the hot liquid and spitting it out into the sink. "Yuck!"

Torako pressed her tongue against her lips and blew, as if trying to get rid of a piece of fuzz that had stuck itself on her lips. "What was the deal with your tongue?"

"Stop talking about it! And what are you doing wiping my kiss away? You're supposed to like that sort of thing!"

Oh great, Torako thought, knowing where this conversation was going. "Tomo, I said I love you. That doesn't mean I want you to kiss me like that."

"And why not?" Tomo said. She grinned. "Aren't your kind pretty loose to begin with?"

Torako decided not to be drawn into that argument, and so tried to go straight to what she thought was the heart of the matter. "Don't force yourself to be something you're not."

Tomo squinted. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm going to have me some tea."

Torako opened a cabinet and placed several teacups on the counter, pouring one for Tomo.

"I'm sorry," Tomo said.

"It's okay," Torako said. "You didn't upset me at all."

"Thanks. Uh, I'm going to see if anyone wants some tea."

Tomo walked through the dining room and into the tatami room. "Hey, you guys want any?" She held up her teacup. "It's in the kitchen."

"No thanks Tomo," Osaka said, still facing her game. "I'm not into that homo stuff."

"I meant the tea!"

...

The next morning was slow going. Tomo, as usual, was first up, and snuck into the kitchen to dig around for some aspirin and a tall glass of water. It was late morning when the rest woke up. Sakaki seemed refreshed, and Osaka, as usual, wandered in a groggy daze before fully waking up.

Sakaki made her goodbyes, convincing all that she could take the bus ride on her own. She thanked Torako for letting her stay, and even suggested that they do it again one day – perhaps without the alcohol. Tomo thought it was funny, grown women having sleepovers, but her life was strange enough that she didn't give the weirdness of it a second thought. She and Osaka went to their own apartment, cleaned up, and waited for Torako to arrive on her own time.

It was noon when she did, having already collected her keys and her Fiat. The freshly scrubbed Torako watched the two make their way to the car, Tomo holding a long blue cloth bag. It clattered as Tomo entered the car.

"What's in the bag?" Torako said.

With a grin, Tomo unzipped it and showed Torako her brand new bokken. "Isn't it cool? I had to go get a new one, you know, in case some crazy people tried to mess with us."

"I hope that doesn't happen," Torako said, starting the car. "Don't you dare smash any windows."

...

_Nux Vomica_ jewelers was shut down with a for sale sign in the window.

"I should have freaking known," Tomo said. "It was a set up."

"Or she lost her biggest client, and couldn't afford to stay open," Torako said, referring to Rain of Terra. "Either way, we can find out when it closed down."

Tomo bent down in front of the door, pulled out her lock picking kit, and had the door open in seconds.

"We are now officially law breakers," Torako said.

"Isn't it awesome?" Tomo said with a grin.

"Know what would be neat?" Osaka said, as she watched Tomo work the lock. "If someone bought this building and had a whole bunch of knick-knacks for sale, and if you looked around, you saw the thing you always watned, right? But you had to pay in like, soul dollars or people getting decapitated in skiing accidents or something."

Tomo successfully picked the lock. Osaka followed the two in and continued her narrative.

"Then you'd come back to return the item, because it was ruining your life, right? But the building would be completely empty. Then you got killed and went to Hell."

The three searched the premises, but it had been completely emptied.

...

They took lunch at Magnetron Burger, all three eating in silence as the old lost details of the case flitted through their minds. It was exciting, Tomo thought, to be on the chase again. She had run away from it for so long, had tried to play keep-away with her past as a detective, that it surprised her how easily the idea came to her again. She put down her burger.

"Guys," she said, "I have an important announcement."

Torako eyed Tomo warily while Osaka said, "You're pregnant."

"What? No! Don't ruin this Osaka, it's important."

"Sorry."

Tomo cleared her throat. "I'm going to be a private investigator. I mean, I'm going to try to get my license."

"I'm glad for you," Torako said, and her expression showed it.

"Good," Tomo said. "Because you're going to be my partner."

Torako put down her burger. "That's not going to work."

"What? Come on Torako! You can't hang around your house all day! And I need a good driver! And," her voice changed into a conspiratorial whisper. "You got a gun!"

"Tomo, I'm not going to be any use to you. I'm never going to be as sharp as I was before."

"But your instincts!" Tomo said. "And your experience! That more than makes up for some reaction time problems, or your brainless moments. Come on Torako, it'll be fun!"

"Fun, huh," Torako said. Tomo was glowing with newfound purpose, and Torako liked what she saw. Not wanting to discourage her, she said, "If you get your P.I. license, I'll get mine too."

"Yeah!" Tomo said, letting out a surprisingly girlish giggle.

"Aw Tomo," Osaka said, "I guess you won't be working with me no more, huh?"

"Well, I might have to. I mean, how many people use private investigators anyway? I'll need some days off when I'm working a case, though, which I'm sure you'll grant with no questions asked."

"Taking advantage of your boss," Torako said.

"She's not my boss! She's my co-worker!"

"You'll have to fill out a form, though," Osaka said.

Tomo stared at Osaka. "Seriously? What kind of form?"

"I don't know yet," Osaka said. "I'll have to come up with one. You'll be like, 'I need to go work on a case!', and I'll be like, 'No, you have to follow procedure and fill out this form in triplicate. I can't have my help leaving whenever they feel like it.'"

"Geez Osaka," Tomo said, shooting a glare at Torako's smirking face. "What good is that going to do? You didn't even have a form to begin with!"

"I dunno what good it'll do," Osaka said. "But you'll have to fill out a form."

Tomo heaved a dramatic sigh and continued eating her burger.

...

Checking at the Tokyo Bureau of Business gave them a disturbing date on the shutdown of _Nux Vomica_ Jewelers. Torako whipped her head to see Tomo tense up in anger. Torako, holding a printout containing information for the storefront, thanked the smiling receptionist, and the three quickly exited the building. They didn't speak until they were in Torako's Fiat.

"So," Tomo said, with barely contained anger, "Reiko decides to shut down the business the day I wake up next to Miruchi. Just two days after we spoke to her, and she's gone." Tomo slapped the dashboard.

"You were right," Torako said. "It was a setup." She went through the contact printout. "I'm willing to bet 'Reiko Tanaka' is an alias."

Tomo leaned over, eyeing the printout censored for public perusal. "That's not helpful at all," Tomo said. "It's not even for sale! They could have at least told us the realtor representing Reiko!"

"Private," Torako said, tapping the blank section that would have been filled with contact data.

"See how being a P.I. would be awesome? We'd get the real deal in no time!"

"Yeah," Torako said, folding the paper into a tight, compact square. She leaned over to pop open her glove box and stuck the paper under an old dirty ball. She sighed. "I guess we wait until that happens. No leads until then."

Torako started up the car, peeking in the rearview mirror to see what Osaka was doing (paying attention). "I'll take you guys home."

"Can I go home with you, Torako?" Osaka said, leaning forward. "I want to beat that game."

"Sure."

They drove in silence for a while, Osaka humming to herself while Tomo, tapping her fingers in an arrhythmic beat against the passenger side armrest, stared out of her window.

She jerked her hand away, ending the avant-garde drum solo. "The hotel," Tomo said, looking at Torako. "Where Asagi was killed."

"What about it?"

"Oda told me there was a secret passage in the boiler room. Let's go check it out – if you want to."

"Let's try it," Torako said. Her voice sounded weaker than she wanted it to sound. "Get the GPS out of the glove box. It should still be saved in there. Osaka, if you could, unlatch the seat so you have access to the trunk."

"You got it," Osaka said, following orders.

"Get the black box out. Put it on the floor – I'll grab it later."

...

So, in broad daylight, they approached the old hotel.

It wasn't so imposing now that its age and decay was exposed in the light. It looked like it had shrunk, shrunk like an old man hunched over, hunched over from age and a sapping inner fatigue that could not be satiated, a fatigue that would consume all until death.

"Freaking depressing," Tomo said, as Torako parked across the street. "They oughta knock it down."

"Blow it up," Osaka said.

"Yeah," Torako said. She cleared her throat. "You guys make sure no one is looking over here, okay? Let me know if anyone gets suspicious."

It wasn't a very busy street they were on, and only one car had passed since they parked. Tomo leaned into the space between the two front seats, and lifted the black case onto the back seat next to Osaka. She unlocked it with a key on her keychain, and opened the lid to expose her Sig P250, configured as a sub-compact.

"Whoa," Tomo said.

"Keep watch," Torako said. She took the gun out, careful to keep it below the windows. She checked the safety, the chamber, and the magazine before placing the gun, barrel down, into the front of her jeans.

"Why are you acting all mysterious?" Tomo said. "You still have your license, right?"

"Of course," Torako said. "I'd rather not cause panic, though."

Torako sighed and slunk down into her seat. "Okay, this is the plan. I'll take point. We're just going to walk right in, no commentary, no excuses."

"Like we own the place!" Tomo said.

"Exactly. Tomo, if anyone tries to stop us, please make up whatever story you can to keep us going."

"Don't worry, I got several already!"

"Good," Torako said. "Let's mos- uh, get going."

The three popped out of the car. After checking for traffic, they sauntered across the street, Tomo in the middle, carrying her bag full of wooden sword-shaped destruction, and Osaka at the rear.

"Hey," Osaka said. "Remember at the Kantei when we started repeating our actions?"

"That's not going to happen here!" Tomo said through clenched teeth. "And keep it down!"

"Well, if it does happen," Osaka said, in a loud whisper, "I'm just gonna have to set everything on fire."

"If it does happen," Torako said, turning slightly to face the two, "I'll help you do it. Keep it down."

...

They made it to the boiler room. No one had even looked at them as they strode in.

"Alright," Tomo said as she shut the door behind them, speaking loudly over the grinding boiler. "It's gotta be in here somewhere, unless Oda was lying like he usually does. Used to do. Check the walls, I'll check the floor."

Tomo de-bagged her bokken and tapped it against the tile floor, a pleasantly full wooden sound filling the room. Osaka put her ear next to the wall and knocked. Torako wandered around, looking for any obvious openings.

Tomo found it first. "Ah ha!" She pointed her bokken at a section of the wall between a water heater and a power unit. She walked forward, and stuck the bokken under her arm. "Look! The concrete around these bricks isn't connected to the wall!"

Torako peered at the floor. "Those gouges could be from pushing this thing open."

"I see them!" Tomo said, a little testily. She pushed her fingers behind the concrete, chipping off some of the coating, and pulled.

The bricks groaned against the floor. They swung open, revealing an open hole. Torako checked behind her to make sure no one had come in while Tomo stuck her head into the dark hole.

"Stairs! And guys... light at the bottom!" Tomo cackled in glee as she unsheathed her bokken from her armpit, and trampled down the stairs. Osaka giggled for no reason at all, and followed behind.

"Wait," Torako said. She rushed to the boiler room entrance and turned off the light. She used illumination from her cell phone to find her way to the secret hole, stepped in, and pulled the brick door behind her.

The dull thumping sounds of the three descending the stairs barely registered as the light at the bottom got brighter. At the end, seen clearly now that they were in front of it, was a rusted steel door with a latch, and a sign that said "No Trespassing by Authority of the Tokyo Metro Commission", written in a font that had not been used by city services since the 1950s.

"I'll open it," Torako said. She pulled out her gun, stuffing Tomo's bokken bag under her armpit, grabbed the latch, twisted it, and pushed open the door.

They stepped into a tunnel with a concrete floor, well lighted, with ancient rusted pipes running along the side into a horizon they could not see. The pipes hadn't been used in decades.

"It's so clean," Osaka said. She pointed at an electric golf cart parked meters from the opening. "How'd they get this down here?"

"Probably piecemeal," Torako said, sticking her gun back in the waist of her jeans. She tucked her shirt behind it for easier access. "Or there's a bigger opening on the other end."

"This is an abandoned service tunnel, isn't it?" Tomo said, her expression grim. She was not hiding the distress at what the implications of this tunnel could mean. She walked to the golf cart and rifled through the glove compartment.

"Nothing here," she said.

Torako sat in the driver seat, saw the key in the ignition, and turned it in. The cart came to life.

"Well, let's see where this tunnel ends." Torako rolled up the bag and put it in the basket at the rear. Tomo, her face tense, scooted over to let Osaka in.

Torako drove at a good clip, the cart's top speed being a respectable twenty miles an hour. The old pipes snaked in and out of the service tunnel, like snakes slithering into their holes. There were no doors on the drive, and the three wondered how far they had to go.

"How far have we gone?" Tomo said.

"Odometer is showing three miles so far," Torako said.

"Ya know what?" Osaka said. "I bet were driving to the center of the Earth."

"We'd be falling instead of driving straight," Tomo said.

"Yeah, but gravity. I mean, the gravity would be weird, and we think we're going straight, but we're actually falling and not realizing it."

"I think we're getting to the end," Torako said. The tunnel rumbled, and a low mechanical moan, like a rushing of wind, passed over them.

Tomo swallowed. "It's a train."

...

They exited through a wide rusted door, one with an actual padlock on the inside. Tomo picked it, and put the padlock in her pocket.

Torako pulled the shirt over her gun, and gave Tomo the bag for her bokken. They opened the door, and entered Tokyo Station.

It was dark in the abandoned terminal, roped off at the top of the stairs. No train had come through here for decades. The three stood on the platform that once took commuters to their jobs and homes, long since abandoned when newer, faster lines took over.

"An old terminal," Tomo said, chilled. The sounds of people and trains rushing descended from above. Wordlessly, the three walked up the stairs, jumped the rope, and entered the central ticket gate of Tokyo Station.

People walked around them with purpose, either going to the gate to buy a ticket, or departing the station after arriving. While some people watched the three jump the rope of a cordoned off terminal, no one accosted them about it.

Tomo looked around for security cameras. "They should have seen anyone coming through here" she said. Torako had to lean in to hear her.

"Tomo," Torako said, pointing.

"Yeah, I see it," Tomo said.

The three walked to the payphone, staring at it as if it'd give up its secrets.

"You guys okay?" Torako asked. Osaka, down-faced, nodded while Tomo just shrugged.

"It goes like this," Tomo said. "Chiyo told me she let Asagi die. Otomo told me she was in the same room. Whatever the case, Chiyo knew it happened, took this stupid secret tunnel to get here, and made her damn phone call."

"The security footage showed her coming from the outside," Torako said. "Did she go out first, get in her disguise, and then come back in to make the phone call?"

"Maybe to throw people off," Tomo said. "I only traced the video from when she entered the building, to the phone call, and when she exited. Damn it!" Tomo slapped the payphone.

"Where was her disguise, though?" Torako said. "Was she planning to do this all along? Watch Asagi die, and then get into her little getup and make the hotel tattle to the police?"

There was no answer to that, and no one wanted to offer theories.

"I can't believe this happened," Osaka said. "It's wrong."

"Yeah," Tomo said.

"There's nothing else we can do," Torako said. "I don't even know what good it'll do anymore. We can't get to her."

"We'll get our P.I. license," Tomo said. She looked at Torako. "But I don't know what good it'll do either. I reported it to the police when she visited me, but they didn't do anything."

"This is it," Torako said. "It's over." She turned to gaze at Tomo, her eyes downcast. "Let's get going."

...

Osaka's good eye spotted them first.

"Stop!" Osaka said. "There's people down there!"

Torako braked quickly, and took out her gun. "Osaka, drive. Switch with me." Tomo got out her bokken.

Osaka drove closer to the two figures, and Chiyo said, "You can put your gun away, Torako. You three look silly bunched up in that cart anyway."

She was wearing her hair in two long pigtails, tied at the scalp. She had a white sleeveless shirt with frills at the shoulders. She wore short khaki shorts that showed off her long legs, and had shod her feet in sandals. She looked amazingly childlike for an obviously grown woman. Her face, despite having the fresh light of a woman breaking into adulthood, contained the aged, experienced eyes of a girl who had seen too much.

Tomo wormed out of the cart and approached the two with her bokken over her shoulder, lifting her chin up in derision. "Hey Chiyo. Enjoying the summer break from elementary school? Got any book reports due?" Tomo looked at Chiyo's partner, dressed in a tight fitting white dress shirt and tight black pants. Tomo did a double-take.

"We were looking for you."

"We know," Chiyo said. She playfully tapped her chin with her finger. "Why wouldn't I have an alarm system and hidden cameras in this tunnel?"

"Chiyo," Osaka said.

Chiyo gave Osaka a nod. "Osaka," she said. "Good to see you again."

"You bum me out, Chiyo, what you're doing."

A wistful air passed over Chiyo's expression. "I'm sorry to hear that, Osaka. I'm not doing anything wrong."

"What's going on?" Torako said, her gun aimed at Chiyo's center mass. "Why are you with Reiko Tanaka?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Chiyo said, as she took a dainty step away from Reiko. "She's my partner. Could you please put the gun away, Torako?"

Reiko laughed. "I'm more like your student, Ms. Mihama."

"Oh great," Tomo said, rolling her eyes. "Let's knock this crap off and get down to business. You." Tomo pointed her bokken at Reiko. "You mislead us about the phone caller's secret identity. It wasn't Aya, it was Chiyo."

"My doing," Chiyo said. She had moved over toward Torako, but Torako took a step back, matching Chiyo's pace. Chiyo leaned against the wall and folded her arms. "I set it up to lead you to the right place – Oda Otomo. Reiko is a good jeweler, and she did make those rings. My suggestion." Chiyo eyed Torako as she spoke. "The ring as an identifying mark of Rain of Terra was my idea, something I presented as a way of uniting a secret brotherhood, but really done to make it easier for the police to identify members."

"You wanted to destroy them from the inside," Torako said.

"Even before I joined them." She made a nod at Tomo. "Useful idiots, like I said."

"You watched Asagi die," Torako said with a growl.

"No, I did not. When I found out it was happening, it was too late. Ryo and Saito were in the room with her. Ryo had finished strangling her."

"You could have stopped them!"

"No, I couldn't," Chiyo said, her face down even though her eyes watched the three. "I came all the way to Tokyo Station to tell the hotel to check the room and call the police before Zhang Ping's thugs came to take her body away. I had to do it the way I did – I would have easily been found out by Oda Otomo."

"Let me get this straight," Tomo said. "You purposely had Reiko mislead us just because of some grudge against Oda?"

"I led you in the right direction," Chiyo said. "I never wanted any one of you to get hurt."

Tomo snorted.

"I'm not lying. I did everything in my power to make sure you guys survived, as much as I could without revealing myself."

Tomo made an inductive leap. "You forged Aya Suzuki's suicide note."

Chiyo turned to face her. "That was helpful, wasn't it?"

"You killed Aya."

"No," Chiyo said, shaking her head. "I'm not a killer."

"Of course," Tomo said. "You just associate with killers and watch people get killed."

"Aya committed suicide out of shame. She loved Oda Otomo, but couldn't stand the dirty work she was involved in. Drugging you to get killed was the last straw for her. It shamed her deeply."

Trusting Torako to have her gun on Chiyo, Tomo glanced at Osaka. She was staring at Chiyo, obvious sadness in her expression.

"Of course," Chiyo said, "you didn't get killed. You ended up killing Miruchi instead."

Tomo choked, her hold on her bokken wavering. She saw Miruchi's face again.

Torako kept her aim true, although she rebalanced on her legs. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Chiyo faked a look of concern, unfolding her arms. "Oh, you haven't told them. I'm sorry."

Osaka stepped forward. "Are you lyin' again, Chiyo?"

"Oh, she didn't do it on purpose," Chiyo said. "She was drugged and brainwashed by Wakamaya and his group."

"I remember!" Tomo said, trying to keep her grip on her bokken. "I remember everything."

Chiyo looked at her in surprise. "You weren't supposed to."

"Oda Otomo... said something. I remembered everything."

"Tomo, we still love you no matter what," Osaka said.

"I know! I never doubted. It's just... I can't stand the guilt."

"I'm sorry you remember, Tomo," Chiyo said. "It's clearly taken quite a toll on you."

"Mihama," Torako said. "If you take another step toward me, I'll shoot you in the kneecap."

"Why are you so defensive, Torako? You should be thanking me. I got Yomi to argue your innocence."

"Why?" Tomo said.

Chiyo shook her head. "You took down Oda Otomo. My enemy. Japan's enemy. Why would I abandon you all to the justice system? There was no chance for you without my help. Yomi owed me, anyway. I put her through Columbia in New York when no college here would accept her."

"You rigged the trial," Torako said.

"Absolutely not," Chiyo said with a sniff. "That's illegal. Now." Chiyo clapped her hands. "Does that wrap it up? Can we all walk away now? Get on with our lives?"

"Why are you doing this, Chiyo?" Osaka said. "What's the point?"

"She wants to change the world," Tomo said with a snarl.

"Who doesn't?" Chiyo said. "I'll be taking the cart back. You three can leave through the boiler room. Torako, put the gun away."

"I don't trust you," Torako said. "You're hiding something about Asagi, and I'm going to get it out of you."

"Well, I'm at your mercy," Chiyo said, walking back to Reiko. "You have the gun. You have Osaka and her ferocious, though peculiar, fighting skills. I guess the thing to do is to call the police." Chiyo propped an arm up on Reiko's shoulder. "You may have to go upside for reception, though. Give it a shot."

"Tomo," Torako said, moving closer to Chiyo to make absolutely sure any shot she took would hit its target. "Call the police."

"Tomo did that before," Chiyo said. "When I paid her a visit." Chiyo put her hands behind her back and took wide steps toward Tomo. "Did they ever do anything about that report? Was it even filed?"

"Stay away from her," Torako said. Tomo slowly pulled out her phone while keeping her bokken steady. Chiyo smiled blandly as Tomo squinted at her, trying to dial blind so as not to take her eyes off Chiyo.

"Get away from her now." Torako snapped.

Somewhere between "her" and "now", Chiyo leapt toward Torako. Too late, Torako realized the gambit – Chiyo had purposely put Tomo, now behind her, in danger of being shot in case Torako missed. Torako adjusted her aim from Chiyo's center mass to her legs, in an attempt to minimize any chance of Tomo taking a missed bullet.

As the order to fire came down from her brain to her finger, Chiyo shifted her position. The gun fired, and the recoil that Torako was used to and prepared her body for increased greatly as Chiyo grabbed the wrist holding the gun, pushed it toward Torako, and then slammed her other hand into her chest. Torako flew backwards and landed hard.

Chiyo, with apparently little effort, side stepped as Tomo's vertical stroke sliced through air. Chiyo thrust her knee into Tomo's solar plexus, causing Tomo to gasp as the air left her, and quickly joined Torako on the ground. Chiyo looked up in time to see Osaka rushing her, her body twisting to land an uppercut.

Chiyo leapt away while grabbing Osaka's arm, and with a trip to her ankle, flipped her into the air. Chiyo pulled down hard, intending to smash Osaka into the floor, but became stunned as she felt Osaka's ki suddenly, impossibly, reverse.

Osaka twisted her body and landed both feet into Chiyo's back. Chiyo launched forward and managed to roll her landing before skirting back up to her feet. Osaka twisted, pushed her feet against the wall, and ran toward Chiyo with a sprinter's speed.

"Shoes untied!" Reiko shouted.

"It is?" Osaka said, looking down. Chiyo, preparing to be plastered against the floor by Osaka's onslaught, instead quickly took initiative to kick at the side of Osaka's knee. Osaka gasped, tripped, and skidded across the floor before coming to a stop.

"Ow ow ow!" Osaka moaned, holding her leg and rocking in place.

Chiyo quickly moved to Torako's gun. She popped the bullet out of the chamber, dropped the magazine, and dismantled it before tossing the parts to the floor.

"That Advanced Scout Project doesn't mean much if you know its weakness," Chiyo said, breathing hard. Despite the arch tone, she looked at Osaka with barely hidden amazement. Reiko, smiling in admiration at her boss, walked through the damaged three and moved toward the cart.

"You'll never see me again," Chiyo said. "You'll never find me. I've done nothing wrong. I've helped you and protected you as much as I was able." She sat in the back of the cart, and Reiko drove away.

"You have to trust me," she shouted, as the cart sped on. "I've told nothing but the truth. Good-bye everyone."

She had disappeared down the tunnel before the three were able to get to their feet.

"Come on," Torako said, struggling to her feet. She pulled out her cell phone. "No reception. Let's get upside. We need to make that call now."

"Will it do any good?" Tomo said.

It didn't.

...

One week later, and Tomo's flight was boarding passengers.

Sakaki, Torako, Osaka, Kazumi, Hiro, and Hiro's girlfriend were at the Narita International Airport, ready to see Tomo off to Brazil. Alekhine, per Tomo's request, had found where Rico was buried.

"I have to say goodbye," Tomo said to Torako, when she revealed her plan. "I never got the chance."

Torako said she understood.

So she made her goodbyes, hugging her friends, and unashamedly leaving soft and gentle kisses on Osaka's and Torako's respective lips. She didn't even take joy in Kazumi's frozen scowl when she parted from Torako.

"When I get back," Tomo said, "we're getting that P.I. license."

"Count on it," Torako said with a smile.

Tomo waved good-bye as she walked into the jet bridge. The group left and chatted with each other. Hunter S. Thompson's quote, "There she goes. God's own prototype" was going through Torako's head, until she realized there were two other people she knew that would better fit that quote – one walking beside her.

Osaka was driving Torako home, as Torako didn't feel up to driving that morning. Dizziness, and fatigue sapping her concentration, required her to rely on her friend that day.

Torako said she understood, but she didn't, really. You spoke to the living, not the dead, but Torako wondered if there was some catharsis, if that would be enough to calm the fire of grief and anger in her heart.

She asked Osaka to take her to the Violet Street cemetery in Nerima.

...

Torako sat on the grass and stared at the headstone where Asagi's ashes were buried. The gentle wind blew across her to let her smell the funerary flowers left by people for their deceased loved ones. She felt the perspiration grow on the back of her neck as the summer sun beat down on her.

There were no flowers on Asagi's grave. Torako mindlessly looked down the alley of headstones and markers before staring at the script carved into the headstone. No eulogies, just her full name, date of birth, and date of death.

Why are we so damn broken? Torako thought. Tomo's trying hard. She's going to be a P.I., and I guess I need to be one too. She's got Miruchi to deal with now... how does she do it? What do I need to do to be like her?

Torako stood up finally and straightened out her jeans. She stared straight at Asagi Ayase's name.

"Fuck you, Asagi," Torako said. "And fuck me too."

She left and walked back to where Osaka was waiting for her.

[END]


End file.
